Philomel's Lullaby
by Memories-of-the-Shadows
Summary: James and Lily Potter pulled a prank that affected everyone. Now their daughter must pay the price. Yes, I said daughter. Warning: AU Girl!Harry. Completed, please see author's notes on chapter 14.
1. prologue

**CHALLENGE:  
The Sex-Change Challenge: I loved the idea for my "The 'Boy' Who Lived" story so much, that I decided I would gladly read anyone else's attempt at it.**

**RULES:  
-Harry Potter must be born a girl, but no one knows except her parents, obviously the Dursleys, Dumbledore, and any select person you may choose.  
-Harry (pick any girl name you want)  
-She must pretend to be a boy for a select period of time. You choose why, although I doubt anyone can understand Dumbledore's crazy schemes.  
-She can be in any of the four houses.  
-People WILL find out the truth eventually. Let a few learn her secret at first, then the whole wizarding world can find out.  
-And finally, NO HET or SLASH. Implying that someone has a crush on 'Harry' Potter is okay, as long as the real Potter isn't attracted to any other girls**

_**I, your (not so beloved) author, Memories, have decided to actually attempt a challenge!**_

_**Sarika: Thank you to SaphirePhoenix for the ideas, it's been awhile since Memories has had inspiration for fanfics on the computer. Of course as her muse I have not let her talents slip away. She has been busy on paper fanfics.**_

_**Memories: Whose fault is that, hmm? Certainly not mine you irritating little snake.**_

_**Sarika: Be nice. And besides, you like snakes, elsewise why would my lower half be a snake? You created my form, ma cherie. But do we not have work to do? Do your little disclaimer thing and we can get started.**_

_**Memories: Yes, yes, of course. I just so happen to **__**not**__** own Harry Potter and if you truly think that then you're welcome to join me and my friends when we go to Bellevue. Though, if I did own it then I most likely would still be writing this.**_

:::

On the night of July 30th, just before midnight, in Godric's Hollow, young red-haired woman who was heavily pregnant dropped her edition of _A Midsummer's Night's Dream _and screamed bloody murder for her husband.

"JAMES POTTER! IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW I'LL—ow, ow, pain, pain—MAKE SURE THIS IS THE LAST CHILD YOU EVER HAVE!"

James, needless to say, sprints down the stairs with an extremely hunted look on his face. "Lily, dear, what's the matter? Are you okay?" he asks quickly, keeping his fingers away from her face; the pregnancy had made Lily extremely violent and he didn't doubt that she probably would have gone through with her threat.

The glare Lily sent James would have made Severus Snape very proud of the only person ever to like him in school. "I am having your son within the next ten minutes and you have the audacity to ask if I'm okay!" she screeches at James.

James immediately goes several shades paler, making him look like cream with coffee. "Ten minutes? We have to get you to St. Mungos!" panics James.

"St. Mungos be damned to hell and back, we don't have time and I will not apparate! Just cast the gods-damned numbing charm and HELP ME!" screams Lily, the contractions causing her to bend over in obvious pain.

James, flustered, takes out a stick and mutters, "_Torpeo._" and waves the stick. Lily lies back on the carpet and starts Lammas breathing. James immediately slips into the role he played during those muggle classes thinking, 'Thank Merlin that Lily made me attend those classes so that I would know what to do in case this happened.'

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Several minutes later a baby's first cry is accompanied by a Cutting Hex then by James' rather effeminate giggling as he dances with the baby. "Oh, such a cute little baby you are! Yes, such a cute little baby! You're going to be such the little lady-killer when you grow up! Yes, you are!" he praises in a sing-song voice.

Lily watches her husband dance around the room singing like a maniac to the obviously confused baby, amusedly, and then croaks, "Can I see him, James? I'm sure that you've confused poor Harry enough for one night." James stops and immediately sets the baby in Lily's arms.

She coos at the baby then notices something. At which she thinks, 'I probably should have seen that rather obvious fact right away. I mean it's a little hard to miss.' Lily continues to coo for a moment then speaks, "James apparently she's inherited more from you than your hair. A little prankster even before she's born!"

James stares in confusion before all the words sink in. He runs a hand through his hair nervously and stutters, "She? But-but the healers said she was a boy. Those were the best healers as well. How could we have missed the gender?"

Lily frowns at him but says, "Well, I do believe I just told you. Our _darling__**daughter**_, is a prankster just like yourself and your friends. And she has pulled off the most ingenious prank ever!" The baby girl gurgles up at Lily and sneezes as a lock of Lily's hair falls on her nose. Lily and James look at her and fuss about how cute she is.

"Oh, I know the perfect prank that we can play on the entire world, Lily! We can extend our daughter's great Prank for as long as we can! Only we and Dumbledore have to know! It'll be great and it's been a long time since I've managed to pull one over on Padfoot! Which reminds me, what are we going to call her? We obviously can't call her Harry, unless it's in front of EVERYONE else." rambles James happily, lying on the floor with Lily and their daughter.

Lily does her best evil, I'm-going-to-prank-you-so-well-you-won't-even-know-what-hit-you, grin. "Sounds like fun. And we're calling her Philomel. Yes, Dumbledore will have to know and I'm going to tell Severus. You know what he's like whenever you play a prank on him. It's no wonder he hates you." Lily says, calmly petting Philomel to sleep.

James fakes a pout then whines, "Why did you pick such a pureblood name? Why not something nice and simple like Sarah?"1__

Lily lightly smacks James' head. "I got it from _Midsummer's Night Dream_. And there's this pretty lullaby that goes with it. Which I will sing to our dearest every night." she says, getting up to put Philomel to bed.

James trails after her, taking out his wand briefly to transfigure the spare bedroom into a nursery. "Okay. So we are pranking the entire world but Dumbledore and Snape. Why Snape, dare I ask? Oh, yes, you already said. What's the lullaby? Can I hear it?" asks James excitedly.

Lily smiles faintly at the sleeping Philomel and says, "Yes, of course you can hear it. Be a dear and get me my book." James bounces downstairs and quickly gathers up the fallen book before racing back upstairs. Lily smiles at James when he hands her the book and opens to a pre-marked page.

"_You spotted snakes with double tongue,_

_Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen._

_Newts and blindworms, do no wrong,_

_Come not near our Fairy Queen._

"_Philomel, with melody,_

_Sing in our sweet lullaby;_

_Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,_

_Never harm,_

_Nor spell, nor charm,_

_Come our lovely lady nigh,_

_So, good night, with Lullaby._

"_Weaving spiders come not here._

_Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence!_

_Beetles black, approach not near._

_Worm nor snail, do no offense._

"_Philomel, with melody,_

_Sing in our sweet lullaby;_

_Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,_

_Never harm,_

_Nor spell, nor charm,_

_Come our lovely lady nigh,_

_So, good night, with Lullaby."_

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

It had been a week since Philomel was born and so far Lily and James' 'Great Prank', as they had dubbed it, had gone off without a hitch. Everyone, including the ministry and the British government believed Philomel Faye Potter to be a little boy named Harry James Potter.

At the moment, though, Lily, James, and Philomel were all in the Headmaster's office with Dumbledore and Severus Snape with the strongest silencing spells they know around the small group.

"So," begins Dumbledore, eyes twinkling madly, "to what do we owe the pleasure James, Lily? Surely there can't be something wrong with little Harry, can there? He looks perfectly fine to me."

Severus snorts. "He looks like his father, Dumbledore. That's never a good thing. But he has your eyes, Lily. Too bad about the rest of him." Nevertheless, Severus gently pets Philomel, who giggles and tries to grab one of his fingers.

James is unsuccessfully trying to kill Severus with a glare, while Lily is glancing sheepishly from Dumbledore to Severus. "Um, er, well she is quite well and that's what we were hoping to talk to you about." stammers Lily. Dumbledore is looking quite confused but Severus stops petting Philomel to stare at Lily and James.

"The fact that your son is in good health is something to be celebrated, not questioned." reprimands Dumbledore. Severus leaves off staring at the Potters to stare at the Hogwarts Headmaster instead.

"Have those lemon drops gone to your head and made you even more senile, Albus? Lily just admitted to throwing us all for a loop where her baby's gender and more than likely name, unless Potter is crueler than the Dark Lord, is concerned. I'm assuming that the Ministry is not aware of this little trick, Lily?" Lily nods her head meekly. Severus continues, "And Potter, I already knew you were insane, but until now I'd not known the full extent. What possessed you to do this? And, of course, I still don't know what her real name is and who else knows of this little prank. So," he pauses to take a breath. "please, do enlighten us."

"Her name is Philomel Faye Potter. No one but you two know of this. Frankly, I don't see why you had to know, **Snivellus**, but Lily insisted." James growls through gritted teeth, wincing when Severus shoots a glare in his direction.

"I got the idea from the way all the healers mistook Philomel for a boy when I went to find out her gender while I was pregnant. When we realized that Philly was a girl I said something about her inheriting it from James and everything just escalated from there. Could you please not tell anyone? It'd be rather difficult to explain the birth certificates the Ministry and the muggle government have." explains Lily.

Dumbledore's eyes widen and he chokes on a lemon drop. "You really went all out on this didn't you James? When were you going to tell everybody? Surely you are not going to make this poor girl grow up thinking that she is a boy." Dumbledore questions when the lemon drop is unstuck.

"Of course not! Once Philly is old enough to understand the difference between genders we will admit to the prank. Oh, and Severus, can you be one of Philly's godfathers? Diana Lovegood and Alice Longbottom are her godmothers, with Sirius as her other godfather." exclaims Lily. James just glares sullenly at the floor.

Severus on the other hand envelops Lily in a brief embrace, eliciting a growl from James. "I'd love to be her godfather so long as I don't have to deal with that mutt every time I want to see her." he replies. Severus then picks up Philomel and begins to tell her about the potion he is making, despite the fact that she is only a week old and probably doesn't understand what he is saying.

Dumbledore interrupts Severus' monologue to conduct the brief ceremony to make Severus Philomel's godfather. A few hours later the silencing charms are taken down and Philomel is taken home by her parents and once again sung to sleep by her mother, who has kept true to her promise.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

**One Year Later**

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

At night on August sixth, Dumbledore and Severus apparate to Godric's Hollow and stride quickly into the ancestral Potter home. In the living room, chatting, are the Marauders, Lily, and 'Harry' better known to only four as Philomel. Everyone except Philomel looks up when the door bursts open and Dumbledore, along with Severus, comes in uninvited.

"What are you doing here, Snivellus? No one wants you." sneers Sirius before he notices Dumbledore. "Hello Professor. Have you come to see Harry? Just had his birthday, beginning of this week, in fact. Such a big, growing boy; you're sure to be taller than your father when you grow up, Harry."

Dumbledore doesn't light up at the mention of Philomel as he normally would; instead he seems so much older. An excellent act, but not necessarily needed to show his despair. "I'm afraid that there has been a prophecy, concerning Phil—Harry and the downfall of Voldemort. True, it might not be him at all and it might be Neville Longbottom but most of the signs point to Harry." Dumbledore sighs and waves at Severus at a signal to continue the story.

"I was at the Hogs Head with another Death Eater, trying to get information, when the new Divination teacher that Albus was interviewing began the prophecy. I managed to get the Death Eater to report to Voldemort what he'd already heard so as to not have the secrecy most likely necessary in this case jeopardized. But in maintaining secrecy I put Lily, Harry, and," Severus' eye twitches. "James on the line. So, unfortunately you have to go into hiding; using the Fidelus charm would in all probability be the best chance you have for safety. Good-bye Lily and take care of my godson and yourself. I expect to see you two at Christmas." With that Severus turns and stalks out the door, his robes billowing and swirling like murky water.

Dumbledore stares sadly at the shocked friends and advises, "I agree with Severus, Lily. Perform the Fidelus charm to keep yourself safe. I would gladly serve as your Secret-Keeper if you like."

Lily is about to accept when James interrupts. "No thank you, Dumbledore. I will be choosing Sirius as our Secret-Keeper. You can go." Dumbledore nods his head in acknowledgement and leaves.

"Prongs, everyone will expect you to choose me. Why not Wormtail? No one would ever suspect him." mentions Sirius. James thinks it over a bit before agreeing. Lily then reluctantly casts the charm wishing that it was Dumbledore instead of Peter who would be protecting her family.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

**Halloween, Same Year**

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"…_Weaving spiders, come not here._

_Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence!_

_Beetles black, approach not near._

_Worm nor snail, do no offense._

"_Philomel, with melody,_

_Sing in our sweet lullaby;_

_Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,_

_Never harm,_

_Nor spell, nor charm,_

_Come our lovely lady nigh,_

_So, good night, with Lullaby."_

Sings Lily, then she kisses Philomel's forehead murmuring, "Good night, darling. Good sleep and good dreams to you on All Hallows Eve, Philomel." into it.

Before Lily can come down the stairs, she hears the door bang open and James shouting, "Lily! Take Philly and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!" and a high evil cackle. Lily immediately sprints to Philomel's bedroom and picks her up quickly; starting to cry as she hears the Killing Curse and a body slump to the floor.

Voldemort glides up the stairs and enters the room just as Lily is about to attempt Side-along Apparition. "Give the boy to me, girl, and I'll let you live." Voldemort crows triumphantly.

Lily just held Philomel closer to her and whimpered, "Not Philly, not Philly, please not Philomel!" Voldemort laughs again and pulls out his own wand, holding it in front of his hooded figure threateningly.

"Stand aside, you silly little girl. It will do you no good to throw your life away for your son's, when I'm just going to kill him myself later. Stand aside, now."

Lily sobs into Philomel's soft blanket, nuzzling her daughter good-bye, before moaning, "Not Philly, please no, take me, kill me instead. I know the entire prophecy, you could torture it out of me…I'll do anything you want…Just not Philomel! Please, have mercy, have mercy…" But Voldemort simply cackles cruelly.

"_Avada Kedavra_." The green light leaves Voldemort's wand and leaves Lily dead on the floor, eyes the exact same color as the curse that killed her wide and unseeing. Voldemort picks Philomel up from her mother's body. "So this is the one that they thought could vanquish me? The Dark Lord? Born to those who cannot even begin to think of defeating; born to those who cannot even remember the child's name. Had you not been a threat young Harry Potter, I think I would have simply taken you. But you are and threats to my reign will not be tolerated." Voldemort says, and then raises his wand. "_Avada Kedavra." _

The green light once again leaves its owner's wand but this time, instead of leaving a dead baby girl; it bounces off what looks like a barrier made of insects and other creepy crawlies. The green, killing light returns to Voldemort and hits him. A piece of sharp crystal imbeds itself into Philomel's forehead, forming the rune for victory, sowilo; when the house explodes. Philomel begins to cry.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Dumbledore immediately sent Hagrid off to Godric's Hollow when the alarms went off in his office. "What have I done, Fawkes? James and Lily are most likely dead and because of some stupid prank everyone believes their daughter to be a boy. Severus will be devastated when he hears about this, but no less devastated when I have to tell him that Philomel is either dead or will live with blood relatives. Nothing but a blood ward could stop Voldemort's killing curse." he whispers. Fawkes croons soothingly to him but cannot do anything more at this time.

The fire suddenly flares green and Remus Lupin sticks his head in. "Professor! James and Lily are dead but Harry's still alive! What should we do? Hagrid's here, do you know any thing about that?" he asks, rather frantic. This is understandable considering the circumstances.

Dumbledore breathes a heavy sigh of relief when he hears that Philomel is still alive and answers the werewolf, "I sent Hagrid when the alarms went off in my office. Harry is really still alive? Is sh—he hurt at all?"

Remus shakes his head, hair flying in his face. "Not much, but there is a cut on his forehead; probably where the curse hit him. Dumbledore, what's going to happen to Harry now that his parents are dead?" he worries.

Dumbledore smiles and replies, "Just tell Hagrid to bring Harry to Privet Drive, Surrey, England. Professor McGonagall and I will be waiting."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Professor McGonagall, at that moment, was a cat and was watching a very normal looking house. 'Filthy muggles, there can be no way that they are related to Lily Potter, the sweetest girl I've ever known. To think that Albus is even considering putting her son with these _people_. Their own son is a spoiled brat the size of a dragonet and the horse-woman will only make sure he grows even larger. Albus can't be thinking of leaving Harry here!' rants McGonagall in her head, hissing at Vernon Dursley when he goes into number four.

Dumbledore appears silently soon after and takes out an odd lighter, which apparently un-lights things. Once the street is dark enough McGonagall transforms into a middle-aged woman with graying red-hair pulled tightly back into a bun.

"Albus! How could you even think of putting Harry with these _people_, and I use that in the loosest term possible, when anyone in the wizarding world would be more than happy to take him? The child kicked its mother because she wouldn't buy it candy! For Merlin's sake, Albus, be reasonable!"

"I understand your concerns, Minerva, but Harry will be perfectly safe here. So long as Harry calls this place home, the blood wards will protect him." answers Dumbledore right before the loud roar of a motorcycle breaks the night. A Harley-Davidson over three times the normal size drops out of the sky and a huge, shaggy-haired man gets off.

"'Ere I am Professor. Got 'Arry too. Fell asleep as we was goin' over Bristol." says the man, Hagrid as he places Philomel into Dumbledore's arms. Dumbledore strides up to the door of number four and gently places Philomel on the doorstep then puts a thick letter on top of her.

Pushing back her bangs he views the cut on her forehead. "He'll have that scar for the rest of his life. Pray, that it will only help not hinder." Silently, like before, he disappears. Hagrid and McGonagall reluctantly leave as well.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, Philomel smiles in her sleep and turns to clasp the letter in one hand, whispering her first word. "Lullaby."

_____________________________

_**Well, that concludes the prologue for my new story. It was longer than I'd expected it would be, but you needed to know everything in this chapter. Oh, and before anyone flames me: James and Lily are young and they just had their first child and they can afford to be a little insane; Severus is **__**Lily's**__** friend and dislikes James very much. He tolerates James for Lily and likes Philomel because this is Lily's child. And I think that Voldemort might feel some kinship if he feels that Philomel has been mistreated. Remember that everyone thinks Philomel's real name is Harry and that she is a boy.**_

_**1) Okay, this is absolutely necessary. One, I utterly despise the name Sarah; there's way too many of them. And James is just playing with Lily.**_


	2. home life, if it can be called that

_**Hello, you remember me, right? It's Memories back with Lullaby, I most likely will change the name, and once again thanks to SaphirePhoenix for the inspiration. Sarika, the disclaimer if you please?**_

_**Sarika: Lazy author, why do I bother with you?**_

_**Memories: You love me and I'm the only one who can deal with you.**_

_**Sarika: Which I vehemently deny. Memories does not own Harry Potter, nor much of anything. She does, however own a stuffed bear named Clinton, which I do not suggest you try and take.**_

**::::**

Philomel is once again out in the garden, sweating in the hot summer sun. She is humming under her breath, a song which she's always known and can vaguely remember a woman's high voice singing it to her at night.

She stops for a moment when a bruise on her arm freezes the muscle there. 'Damn Dudley. Considering the fact that he always manages to place my bruises in the worst possible place when it comes to movement, one would think he'd at least be good in Anatomy. Yet he remains the most stupid person in the class. Not that anybody'd say anything.'

Philomel reaches up to massage it back into working order, thinking about how utterly screwed up her life is. 'As if it's not bad enough that I'm the Dursley's slave, I'm also my baby killer whale cousin's punching bag, and I don't even have real clothes! I hope whoever left me here burns in hell; because that's the only way any of this will have been worth it.' she thinks vindictively.

"Get in here you lazy, stupid girl!" screams Philomel's aunt, Petunia Dursley, from the back door.

'That's the pot calling the kettle black, dear Aunt bitch.' Philomel remarks in her mind, but obediently gets up and quickly walks over to Aunt Petunia and bows her head demurely, saying, "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

Philomel sighs inwardly when she is knocked down by a frying pan to the head. "Eat your lunch quickly and get out of sight. You will not be allowed out of your cupboard tonight because of Dudders' birthday party. Make a sound and you will regret it."

Philomel nods and moves her head slightly to avoid another blow to the head. "May I take a book to read, and therefore will not be tempted to make a noise, as I otherwise would?" she asks timidly, bracing for another impact.

Instead of issuing another blow, Petunia smirks and declares, pleased, "Yes, girl, you may. We wouldn't want such a wanton little freak like you to be tempted to disrupt my Dudders' party."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel drew a thick book off the bookcase in Dudley's second bedroom quietly and brought it back down to her cupboard. Opening it to a page somewhere near the middle she begins to read:

"_Paul felt that all his past, every experience before this night had become sand curling in an hourglass. He sat near his mother hugging his knees within a small fabric and plastic hutment—a stilltent—that had come, like the Fremen clothing they now wore, from the pack left in the 'thopter._

"_There was no doubt in Paul's mind who had put the Fremkit there, who had directed the course of the 'thopter carrying them captive…"_

Philomel set down her book with a scowl. The party had just begun outside and Dudley had turned up the music louder than was necessary, or even healthy. 'No doubt an attempt to aggravate his parents and me. Not even halfway done _Dune_ and soon I won't be able to get to it anymore. How annoying that I have to ask permission to simply read.'

Philomel lays the book next to her in the cleanest part she could find in her cupboard and fell asleep.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"Up, now, Philomel, you freak!" screeches Aunt Petunia, rapping on the door sharply.

Philomel's emerald eyes fly open and she pushes long bangs out of the way so she can see in the gloom. "I'm up, Aunt Petunia. What do I need to do?"

"Cook my Dudders' breakfast and don't burn it!"

Philomel sighs and runs her fingers through her knee-length, windswept, midnight black hair; the only thing she liked about her appearance other than her eyes and her thin lightning bolt scar. Suddenly a thumping comes from above and Philomel hisses in annoyance. 'As if my life isn't miserable enough already, no need to add guilt for dead spiders to the list.' Philomel leaves the cupboard immediately and dust starts to settle in her hair. Shaking it out she goes quietly to fix her cousins breakfast.

While she was overseeing the bacon, Dudley came through the kitchen. Seeing Philomel with her back to him, Dudley couldn't resist pulling on her thick hair. Satisfied with her cry of pain he goes into the dining room to receive his presents.

Philomel is finishing breakfast, thinking maliciously, 'Dudley will eventually pay for all his sins; perhaps the massive amount of meat will be stripped from his bones. One can only hope.' She then goes on to serve her aunt, uncle, and cousin the breakfast while listening to them argue about the amount of presents.

"We'll get you some more at the zoo, Dudley, I promise! Please, don't cry!" cries Aunt Petunia. Dudley finally acquiesces, just as the doorbell rings. Philomel cautiously opens the door to reveal Dudley's friend, Piers Polkiss. She shudders unnoticeably when he leers at her; something no eleven-year old should do, then pushes her out of the way.

Uncle Vernon is reading the mail, however and groans aloud when he gets to one from a Mrs. Arabella Figg. "Petunia, dear, it seems one of those blasted cats tripped Mrs. Figg, breaking her leg. She can't take the girl."

"We are NOT leaving her in my house!"

"Well we're not leaving her in my new car, Petunia. She'll just have to come with us." replies Uncle Vernon with as much calm as he can muster. Then he turns on Philomel. "Though, I'm warning you, Philomel Potter, that if you do anything to disrupt Dudley's birthday, you will be in that cupboard until your birthday."

Philomel bows her head in submission before saying, "Yes, Uncle Vernon. I understand."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel is stuck between Dudley and Piers and is pointedly ignoring the two boys incessantly bothering her. Despite the brief outburst from Uncle Vernon of, "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!" because of a brief comment on a dream of such; they all got to the zoo in one piece.

Whilst at the zoo, Philomel was having the best time ever in ten years. For once she'd acted like her age and not her reading level1. Albeit, she was reading the cards explaining each animal with interest incongruous with the image of an eleven year old girl. It was only when they entered the Reptile House that something more unusual happened.

"Hey, dad, make it move!" wheedles Dudley, while pointing at the Brazilian Boa Constrictor that seemed to be sleeping. Uncle Vernon knocked sharply on the glass, ignoring the 'Do not touch the glass' signs. When it didn't move he rapped the glass once more before Dudley declared, "This is boring! I want to do something fun."

Philomel watches as her cousin and her uncle walk away then turns her attention to the snake. _/Poor thing./ _she whispers, staring sympathetically at the snake.

Too Philomel's surprise the snake lifted its head and winked before cocking its head in a parody of a shrug. It then gave her a look that said, _\Happens all the time.\_

Philomel stares in surprise, then decides that her life can't get any weirder and replies, _/Annoying, is it not? In any case, where did you come from?/_

The boa constrictor points with its tail toward the sign. Philomel reads the entire thing before saying, /_Sorry. Don't you wish you could just run away; back to your original homeland, from whence all your ancestors came?/_

The snake is just starting to nod when Piers screams, "DUDLEY, MR. DURSLEY! YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT PHILOMEL IS DOING TO THAT SNAKE!"

Dudley and Uncle Vernon run over to the boy, Dudley knocking over Philomel in the process. Philomel doesn't react beyond a slight narrowing of her eyes. Dudley, who had his face pressed up against the glass of the snake tank, fell through when the glass disappeared. The boa slithered out of the tank and past Philomel.

When it slinked by, Philomel could have sworn she heard it say, _/Thanksss, Sssenorita. Brazzzil here I come./_

A highly surprised hiss escapes her lips, _/'Twas no problem./_ And the rest of the glass enclosures disappear, causing mass hysteria in the crowd and causing Philomel to scoot into a corner to avoid being trampled. She stays there until the entire building is cleared, and even then Philomel does not move for fear of her relatives thinking she ran away. Especially Aunt Petunia, who would be the only one to actually hit her in front of family.

A swish of fabric on the dusty floor grabs Philomel's attention before she sees, not her Aunt and Uncle, but a man with rather odd-looking, black clothes. Philomel returns to regarding her overtly too-large clothes with disdain, ignoring the man.

"You are Philomel Potter, aren't you, girl?" he asks politely, leaning over to get a better look at her face.

Philomel fixes a rather good death-glare on the man from behind her curtain of hair. "Yes." she answers tetchily. The man nods in thought then grabs her hand and pulls her up. Philomel stiffens for a moment before succumbing to his will.

"What do you want?" questions Philomel, clearly not expecting much in the way of an answer.

She is surprised, however, when the man immediately responded, "I was sent by the Headmaster of a very exclusive private school to pick you up and help you get your supplies. My name is Professor Severus Snape and I am what you might call a chemistry teacher2.__Tomorrow we will go get your supplies, Ms. Potter, but for now you will meet the Headmaster." Philomel is looking thoughtful, until Professor Snape holds out a piece of paper with some writing on it.

"_1:30 pm, July 27__th__, A Wednesday."_

That was all the paper said when Philomel took it to read it. Opening her mouth to ask what was going on, she feels a tug in her abdomen. Then a feeling of vertigo overtakes Philomel and she passes out, seeing brilliant colors flash across her broken glasses.

**::::**

_**Memories. You get to see some of Philomel's thoughts and feelings. I also left some hints as to what house she will be in, it will not be Gryffindor! She may sound brave in her head, but Philomel is almost all bark and almost no bite. Also if anyone has any thoughts on what wand she should get, Harry will still have the traditional, canon wand; but Philomel's will be different. She can use both, but one works better for the different genders (state of mind thing). Review if you please and flames will be used to keep my cave at a manageable level of coldness.**_

_**She's reading Dune by Frank Herbert. If you've never read it, it is quite long and complex. Half my teachers wouldn't understand it.**_

_**Potions are incredibly similar to chemistry and I don't see why Severus can't have at least a basic knowledge of equivalent muggle education.**_


	3. Interesting, assumptions are so amusing

_**Memories: Third chapter of Lullaby already, Sarika. To what do I owe the honor?**_

_**Sarika: You not being lazy for once. Now hurry up with the disclaimer so that the readers don't have to wait any longer.**_

_**Memories: Yes, of course, my all powerful muse mistress; your wish is my command. I own nothing except Philomel, vaguely, and Philomel's wand. I catch you stealing them without my permission and it's off with the offending hand.**_

**:::**

Philomel slowly climbs out of the darkness of unconsciousness and back into the waking world. Verdant eyes flutter like butterflies for a moment before opening to see an old man with long white hair and sparkling blue eyes wearing the same sort of clothes as the other man, Professor Snape, was wearing.

"Who are you, and what have you done to me?" inquires Philomel with very little patience left. The old man chuckles and leans into his chair.

"It seems that you are very much like your mother, Philomel, dear. And I have done nothing out of the ordinary for us." he says, side-stepping the first question. Philomel scowls.

"I asked who are you and yes you did do something out of the ordinary, you drugged me." she replies, an edge of temper creeping into her voice. Philomel growls once more, "What is your name?"

"Albus Dumbledore, dear. Didn't Severus tell you that you were going to be meeting with me?"

"No, Professor Snape did not tell me your name, Headmaster. But I still do not see why it was necessary to drug me to bring me here. We could have gone other ways. Such as by train or car or plane even." answers Philomel, much more calm now that she knows, in a general sense, who this is.

"My dear, we did not give you drugs. You arrived by Portkey. Didn't Severus tell you anything?" informed Dumbledore.

Philomel shook her head, causing her loose hair to fly around her face. "I do not know what a Portkey is and Professor Snape merely said that he was here on the behalf of your school. If he missed anything that he perhaps should have told me then maybe you should speak with Professor Snape about it." Philomel suggests, an edge of anxiety creeping into her voice.

"Hmm. Severus!" calls the Headmaster. Severus stalks quietly into the room and refuses the offered lemon drop.

"Albus, I'm sorry for not explaining things properly to Philomel, but the corner of the Reptile Room in a zoo is hardly the place for it. Add in the fact that I found her mere minutes before the Portkey took me here there wasn't enough time." apologizes Severus, not noticing Philomel, who is shrinking down into the chair, hoping to learn something.

"Really? Where were her Aunt and Uncle? Surely they would not leave their ten going on eleven year old niece alone in a large zoo." responds Dumbledore, quite agitated at the mention of such.

Philomel can't help but react with a, "They ran screaming, along with everyone else, out of the room when all the glass for the snake tanks vanished. They won't notice I'm gone until it is time for me to cook dinner." Philomel snickers a bit at the thought before retreating behind her polite mask once more. "What did you want to explain to me Professor, Headmaster?" she asks.

"My dear, though this may come as a shock to you, you are a witch. You have been accepted at my school; Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry." answers Dumbledore after a moment.

Philomel cocks her head to the side in an inquisitive manner, but shows no outright disbelief. After a moment she speaks, slowly, as if sounding it out, "I'm a witch? So that means that speaking to snakes is not impossible, neither is flying, nor regrowing my hair after it's been shaved off? That it would actually be possible for me to make things disappear, and shrink things?"

Dumbledore looks at Severus, thinking, 'This is not what I expected.' Sentiments that show in his eyes. Severus looks back with his thoughts obvious, for once.

'Really? This is pretty much what I had anticipated from Lily's daughter'

Severus breaks eye contact with the Headmaster with an amused smirk on his face. "Ms. Potter, none of those things are impossible, per se, just most of them difficult. Speaking to snakes is a rare gift, one much valued by my house. Much of the things you mentioned were probably wild magic, done in times of great emotional distress. Here at Hogwarts you will learn to control your magic and possibly put your outbursts of wild magic to use in the form of wandless magic." he explains calmly.

Philomel nods gradually, a long delicate finger to her lips. "Wandless magic would mean, by inference, that I would have a wand in the first place. May I see yours, Professor Snape?"

Severus nods and pulls out a thin dark stick, presumably his wand, and holds it in front of Philomel, making abundantly clear that she is not to take it. Philomel lightly grasps Severus' hand and turns it so she can see all around it. Nodding and smiling at Severus, Philomel lets go and he returns his wand to its place.

"One last question, Professors. Did either of you know my parents? I'm sorry but I don't know their names so I can't help you." questions Philomel, shyly.

Dumbledore beams at the girl. "Of course we knew your parents, dear. Brightest witch and wizard of their age, albeit they had an odd sense of humor. James and Lily Potter were among my favorite students when they here." Dumbledore rambles happily.

Severus scowls at the mention of James and mutters, "Brightest wizard of his age, questionable. More like most insane. Potter and Black, the most insane people in the world." He is broken out of his reverie by feminine giggle, quickly stifled.

"Was my father really insane?" puffs out Philomel.

Dumbledore frowns, but the twinkle is still in his eyes. "No, neither of your parents were mentally disabled in that fashion." The twinkle suddenly disappears.

"However, Philomel, you must know the true events behind your parents' deaths. They were not killed in a car accident like your aunt and uncle tell you. A very evil and dark sorcerer killed them and tried to kill you as well. But he failed because of your mother's sacrifice. You were just a baby, Philomel, so I don't expect you to remember."

Philomel hums a bit before closing her eyes and retorting, "But I do, sir. I remember a women crying, I remember being picked up and talked to, I remember the man that had picked me up dissolve in a flash of green light, and I remember the words '_never harm, nor spell, nor charm, come our lovely lady nigh…'_ being repeated over and over again along with the name Harry."

Eyes the shade of jade that Chinese emperors had killed and died for, opened and pierced them, eyes full of memories that she should not have been able to remember. "May I ask who Harry is?"

Severus is the first to shake off the spell of her eyes. "You. Harry is you. When Albus said that your parents had an odd sense of humor, he was not joking. You were originally supposed to be a boy and that's what everyone believed. Only those in this room know the truth."

Philomel stares at them disbelievingly, eyes back to normal emerald. "They can't have been that moronic. It's a rather hard fact to miss, being a girl." Philomel gasps out indignantly.

Both of the men laugh while Philomel glares at them. "Well, everyone who knew my parents will just have to deal with the fact that I'm a girl. There is no way, even if sand-worms are real and you decide to feed me to them, that I will consent to acting like a boy just to continue some practical joke!" she howls, reminiscent of a wolf.

Dumbledore sobers up somewhat and informs Philomel, "My dear, sorry to have to do this to you, but it might be safer if you were to continue the charade. Seeing as how only I, Severus, and your family know of your true gender, Voldemort will not be looking for a young girl over the summer. We will have to make you look more like a boy, but that shouldn't be hard."

Philomel thinks for a second, and then says, "So long as it's to keep me alive – WHAT! THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL THAT I'M CUTTING MY HAIR!" Philomel screams, hands flying protectively to her tangled locks.

Severus scowls at Dumbledore, who simply chuckles. "My dear, you won't need to cut anything. All that is required is a simple glamour. The only change of appearance required for a glamour is the braiding and pinning of your hair, but that's only so no one will be accidentally be hit by it and wonder why you would have long hair when it looks short." explains Dumbledore.

Philomel's hand slides away from her hair and a faint, almost nonexistent, blush mantles her cheeks. "Oh. I'm sorry, sirs. But on the matter of braiding my hair, I'm afraid I don't know how."

Dumbledore smiles indulgently while Severus glowers at the floor. "No need to worry about it now, Philomel, dear. I was going to sort out which concealing spell to use while Severus took you to get your supplies. If you go as you are now, nobody will mob you."

Philomel nods and Severus holds out another piece of paper. Philomel looks at it suspiciously, before saying, "This isn't one of those 'Portkey' things, is it?"

Severus snorts and says, "Yes, it's one of those things. This is the only way to get there without get soot all over." Philomel looks confused but lays one long delicate finger on the paper, bracing for the swirls and vertigo.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel stumbles into Severus when they land but quickly pulls away when she gets her bearings. Severus leads her to a rundown bar that other people seem to miss. Filing this away as interesting but not relevant at the time Philomel stays silent until the barkeep calls out.

"Professor Snape, good to see you again. Who's that with you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Severus is surprised at the question but doesn't show it. "This is Philomel Faye, my goddaughter. She's never been to Diagon Alley before, so I decided to take her." he replies coolly before going out the back.

Philomel follows, wondering at Severus' words and what he is doing to the wall with his wand. One of her questions is answered when the bricks peel away to reveal an archway. "Professor Snape, where are we going and why did you call me your goddaughter?" queries Philomel, seeing the reason behind using a false last name1.

"You are, Ms. Potter. Your mother asked me to be one of your godfathers after she told me the truth. I could never have refused." responds Severus, leading them into a large, slightly tilted, white marble building.

"This is Gringotts, the wizarding bank. It is run by goblins, who, while being rather violent and rebellious, are excellent with money of any type. Not that I blame them on the rebellious part; the Ministry is not competent in the least when dealing with magical beings. Your parents left you quite a bit of money, some of which we will retrieve today." Severus explains, slipping into teacher-mode.

Philomel nods and reflects, 'Perhaps I should save my questions until I digest all this information; that outburst in the Headmaster's office will not be tolerated again.' She stares at the goblins discreetly but makes no move to openly declare her confusion.

Severus strides up to the counter, with Philomel trailing behind, and puts a small golden key on it. "I would like access to Mr. Potter's vault; I am Professor Severus Snape."

The goblin at the desk sneers at Severus before turning his attention to Philomel. "Your companion is most certainly not Mr. Potter. For one, she is a girl." The sneer fades slightly when Philomel's verdant eyes narrow faintly. "What's your name girl?"

"My name is Philomel Potter, sir. Might I know yours?" replies Philomel in a perfectly polite voice that makes sure everyone knows of her derision of the goblins manners.

The goblin snorts and calls out, "Griphook! Escort Professor Snape and Ms. Philomel to the Potter vault. If this is not the key to it then leave them there."

The younger goblin smiles maliciously and takes the key. He turns and leads the human pair to a mining cart. Severus climbs in, and although Philomel hesitates a bit, she follows. The cart rockets off as soon as she is in it but unlike Professor Snape, Philomel is not remotely sick. In fact, Philomel is enjoying the ride very much and is taking the opportunity to ask Griphook all about goblins.

"So, sir, is it customary for goblins to insult the customer, or was it because I do not match the description of Harry Potter? I don't mean to be rude, sir, of course not. It's just that I've never met a goblin before." babbles Philomel. Griphook scowls at the questions.

"There has, so far, been no customer worthy of being polite to. You, Ms. Philomel, are forgiven in light of your ignorance." Griphook smirks at Philomel malevolently. "But you still have yet to earn our respect."

Philomel nods indistinctly and is about to ask another question when the cart screeches to a halt. Severus stumbles out and Philomel lifts herself out, refusing any help. Griphook proudly announces, "The Potter vault. Now is when we find out whether the cleaner goblins will be finding a pair of skeletons or not."

Griphook inserts the tiny golden key, which, to his surprise and no one else's, turns and opens the door. Thick green smoke pours out of the vault but it quickly clears. Inside the vault is an enormous amount of gold, silver, and bronze piles littering the floor. Philomel doesn't outwardly show surprise, but inside she's gasping.

'I've never seen so much gold in my life! I'll have to get a bank statement and figure out a proper amount to take out each year for books and necessities; I won't have need of any engaging items besides books. Also, with this amount of money there must be other properties! Why am I still living with the Dursleys?'

Severus, meanwhile, was scooping coins into a bag and waiting for the slightly glazed look in Philomel's eyes to depart. When it does Severus immediately starts telling Philomel the conversions for the money, "Knuts, the bronze coins, are twenty-nine to a Sickle, the silver ones. Galleons, which are the gold ones, are seventeen Sickles, or four hundred ninety-three Knuts." Philomel nods and they depart.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Once out of Gringotts, Severus escorts Philomel to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Inside, the cheerful witch led Philomel to a footstool in the back where a boy was being fitted.

"Are you going to Hogwarts as well?" asks the boy immediately.

Philomel glances to Severus for advice and replies accordingly when he shakes his head slightly. "No. I just came here for robes." Philomel obediently lifts an arm when Madame Malkin requests it. "My name is Philomel Faye. What's yours, may I ask?"

"Draco Malfoy. I've never heard of the Faye family before; Are they a pureblood family?"

Madame Malkin just finished and Philomel was looking a bit indecisive, so Severus decided to come to her rescue. Stepping out of the shadows he says, "Yes, Draco, the Fayes are a pureblood family. Come Philomel, you still need your wand. We will come back for Philomel's robes later, Madame Malkin."

Philomel does nothing when Draco dips his head toward her and bids, "Goodbye Ms. Faye, I hope to see you later." and allows Severus to steer her out of the shop.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Quite a few shops down, Philomel and Severus stop in front of a dusty, old shop with a single wand on a purple cushion. Emblazoned on the store front in faded letters was the title, _"Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.E."_

A tinny bell rings when Philomel opens the door and a dry, dusty voice, one that you might imagine an old book to have, calls out, "Ah, a customer. Who do we have here?" A slightly crinkled, silvery-eyed man with pale hair comes into the petite space. His pale eyes flit around like little fairies until they land on Severus. "Severus Snape, what a pleasant surprise. 11 inch cherry wood, good for curses and lighting fires. I never forget a wand."

Severus inclines his head to the older man. "Mr. Ollivander, as astute as always, I see. But I am escorting my goddaughter to get her wand, not to catch up on old times. Philomel Faye, this is Mr. Ollivander, the premier wand maker for the wizarding world."

Philomel bows slightly, though no less demurely. Ollivander scrutinizes her closely but merely mutters, "So much like Lily, though it can't be! Surely a secret like that couldn't be kept for so long." Then he removes a tape measure and begins to measure. Philomel is so enraptured by the measuring tape that she doesn't hear anything until Severus talks into her ear.

"Philomel, do pay attention."

Ollivander is simply looking rather amused and repeats his question. "Which is your wand-hand, Miss Faye? Right or left?"

Philomel looks slightly uncomfortable when she holds out both. "I can use both my hands, sir. But, truth be told, I rather favor my left; that will not affect anything, will it sir?"

Ollivander chuckles and places a wand into Philomel's left hand. "Beech and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Wave it around a bit." Philomel complies but it is immediately snatched back.

She goes through wand after wand until one feels different from the others, but still not _right._ "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches." That one, as well, was whipped away, but not before a brief 'hmm'.

"Perhaps this would be the one had you been right-handed, Miss Faye." comments Ollivander, before thrusting another wand at her.

None of the others afterward felt even remotely suitable, but Ollivander was overjoyed, saying things like, "There hasn't been a customer this difficult since Rodrigo Borgia! Oh happy days indeed!"

After Philomel had gone through nearly every wand on the shelves and Severus had left in a huff to collect Philomel's robes. Philomel has borne everything up 'til the time that Ollivander goes to the back room with patience, nearly panics when Ollivander disappears.

"Sir, is there something wrong? I haven't done anything wrong have I?" she asks, practically reduced to begging.

Ollivander returns with a pleased smile on his face and a slim dark wand in his hands. "I do believe I've found the one for you, Miss Faye. Thirteen inches, dogwood with a core of peryton's blood. Go on, try it."

Philomel takes the wand and, feeling slightly hopeless, waves it. Instantly a warm feeling rushes up her arm and a quill appears in the air. It scribbles something down then disappears. The words are still hanging in the air and Philomel chants them softly.

"_Philomel, with melody,_

_Sing in our sweet lullaby…"_

As soon as she finishes the words disappear as well. Ollivander is quite shocked but recovers enough to say, "Well, that's interesting."

**:::**

_**Memories, just a few notes. Sandworms are from Dune and they are huge worms with very sharp teeth that ride under the sand on Arrakis (Dune). **__**The Dursleys never taught Philomel how to do anything but brush her hair; but that's not really surprising is it? I myself couldn't figure out how to braid my own hair until sixth grade. When Philomel uses her last name in front of the goblin she is trusting to her knowledge of them not liking wizards much. Which means that she believes they would keep a secret like that just out of spite. As you can see, Philomel feels **__**something**__** for Harry's canon wand. For those of you who've read my previous ANs they know what that means. Rodrigo Borgia was a real person, the son of Lucrezia Borgia. I have specific reasons for choosing the wood and core I did for Philomel's wand. Anyone who wants to know should review or leave a message.**_

_**Philomel doesn't know her middle name, the Dursleys never used it.**_


	4. A familiar and books

_**Memories: Thank you so much Sarika! Finally a fanfic that goes quickly!**_

_**Sarika: Yes of course, you silly author. You can kiss my feet—er—hems of my skirt later. For now, do the disclaimer. I for one do not wish to end up in court because you forgot.**_

_**Memories: I do not own anything except Philomel's wand and, possibly, Philomel. And let us not forget who owns the rights to my imagination, Sarika! (Possibly my soul as well but the hemispheres of my brain are strongly contesting that fact.)**_

_**Memories: A note. If the name **__**Rosu**__** escapes my typing fingers, I give you all the permission to brutally kill me. It's from one of my paper fanfics and has no relation to this fanfic. NONE AT ALL. So please, let me know if that happens.**_

**:::**

Severus had just returned from Madame Malkin's when he heard a small screech that was quickly hushed from within Ollivander's. Dashing inside he sees a shocked Philomel with a wand in her hand and a highly entertained Ollivander whispering to her.

"It's quite alright, Miss Faye, things always happen when the wand chooses you. It just doesn't happen quite that _eloquently_, shall we say, often. Here's Professor Snape now all I need is several Galleons and you can be on your way."

Philomel snaps out of her daze when she hears Severus dropping the required amount of money into Ollivanders outstretched palm and she quickly hides her wand in a loose seam that fits it. Severus grabs her hand and draws her outside.

"Now that you have your wand, I assume, we will go get you some books and a familiar. You will come back here with Hagrid when Professor Dumbledore perfects the glamours so as to make sure that everything will go as planned." Severus dictates to Philomel.

Philomel furrows her brow in thought and asks, "Then should we have gotten my wand, Professor, sir? Wouldn't this Hagrid notice if I already have a wand?"

Severus snarls back, "Professor Dumbledore told me to do this. Had that infuriating 'I know more than you do' smile on when he told me as well." Then he took off for the Magical Menagerie with Philomel following obediently behind.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The air inside the Menagerie was musty and warm, almost like you had stepped into a favorite blanket that hadn't been washed for a few weeks. Philomel was very nearly shocked into another outburst at the sight of all the magical pets.

"Have a look around and see who catches your eye. With luck you might find your familiar." Severus says as he shoos Philomel further into the shop.

Philomel takes that as a cue to look around by herself, which gives her a chance to think. 'Those words that my wand drew in the air, I recognize them, but from where? It had my name in it, hmm. _Philomel, with melody; sing in our sweet lullaby… _Perhaps it was a lullaby that my mother sung to me? But why would I still know the words? The only thing I remember of any lullaby is the melody. Perhaps I should try and look it up in the library, if I can get away from dear Aunt Bitch. I could ask someone, should I think up a proper excuse for asking.'

Something in the corner hisses out weakly when Philomel passes by. _/Do you know where my mummy isss? I can't find her and ssshe promisssed not to leave before I hatched. /_

Philomel allows herself to be drawn out her thoughts and turns her attention to the corner. _/No, I'm sorry. Perhaps we could find her, can you come out of the shadows, little one? /_

Philomel hears a small hiss of agreement before a minuscule cinnamon colored snake with infinitesimal white wings. Philomels breath catches in her throat and she thinks, 'She can't be more than a day old.' briefly. Then, she gently picks the winged serpent up and carries her to the counter.

"Excuse me, do you know where this one's mother is?" Philomel asks the man at the counter.

He looks at her and then sees the little winged snake slithering up Philomel's arm. "Oh, sorry, ma'am. We sold the mother three days ago. We tried to sell the guy the egg as well, but he wouldn't take it. The baby should only be a Galleon; as opposed to the mother, which sold for ten Galleons, can you believe it?"

Philomel stares at the tiny snake for a moment before leaving to find Severus.

"Professor, I found something." mummers Philomel, brushing a hand against Severus' arm.

Severus looks at Philomel for a moment before replying, "Really? What is it?" Philomel bites her lip, a nervous habit that she tries very hard not to do, absently and holds out her arm with the little winged snake curled around a thin, bony, wrist.

Severus stares at the cinnamon snake for a moment thinking, 'A snake? A winged snake is Philomel's familiar. Yes, it is quite little and yes, I know that she is a Parseltounge; that scene in that zoo left no room for doubt. I only hope that I never anger or accidentally hurt her with it in the room; the consequences would not be good.' Then he snaps out of his thoughts and states, "Well how much is it, and what did you want to name it?"

Philomel runs a finger over the tiny snake's feathery wings and hums, "I don't know. The man said she was a Galleon. Could I really have her, Professor?" All the while the single thought is running through her head, 'Will I really be able to have the little one? Will I really have someone to talk to?'

Severus nods at his goddaughter then left to pay for Philomel's familiar.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel was following Severus absently, still petting the snake's wings, when she followed him into a store. Philomel looks up when the dry, papery, slightly musty scent reaches her. She is in shock at the sheer amount of books that meet her eyes, so much so that she questions Severus tremulously, "Professor, what are we doing here? Surely this is a mistake, unless you wanted a book for yourself." Still, Philomel is looking around at the various books with something akin to desire in her eyes.

Severus smirks at the look but frowns inside at her statement. 'Why would someone so obviously in love with books think that coming in here was a mistake? Unless, it was a mistake in the past. I will never forgive those muggles for what they did to my goddaughter!' he fumes, though not a single emotion shows through.

Instead he smiles at Philomel before stating, "It's no mistake, Philomel. You may choose any five books you wish; might I suggest one that details the magical world's social structure and laws? Provided, of course, that you feel you can understand it." When Philomel stares at him disbelievingly Severus continues, "Or perhaps wizarding history would be more to your liking?"

Philomel is staring wonderingly at Severus by this time, and a sarcastic comment slips out as a hiss, _/Understand? Why wouldn't I understand? It can't be much harder than the book on British and American foreign policy that my teacher gave me to read when I fell asleep in class.__1__/_

The tiny snake looks up a Philomel sleepily before replying, _/Try both, missstresss. It can't hurt and the people who came before you were sssaying how much at a disssadvantage mugglebornsss were becaussse they didn't know the wizzzarding world. Whatever that meansss. /_

Philomel nods, not even realizing that she is staring and speaking to a snake who is giving her advice. Then Philomel realizes that Severus had just told her she could get five books. She stammers out, "Th-thank you, Professor Snape." before skittering off.

Philomel is reverently removing a massive book of wizarding history when she overbalanced and fell into another girl. "Sorry! I was just trying to get a book and I overbalanced, are you okay? I'm so sorry!" apologizes Philomel quickly, swiftly getting up and offering a hand to help the girl up.

The girl looks through a mass of thick, frizzy, brown hair before impatiently flipping it back. She shrugs and accepts Philomel's proffered hand, saying, "It's no problem. My name is Hermione Granger, what's yours?"

Philomel blushes faintly when Hermione bends down to pick up the fallen books, feeling slightly guilty at not doing that herself. "I'm Philomel Faye, Miss Granger. I really didn't mean to knock you over, next time I should probably ask someone for help."

Hermione snorts before handing Philomel the tome she had wanted. "No need for that 'Miss Granger' stuff. My name is Hermione. Philomel is a pretty name; it sounds like something Shakespeare used in one of his plays."

Philomel takes the book and tries to politely back out of the conversation when Hermione mentions Shakespeare. Almost trembling, Philomel asks a question as nonchalantly as she can manage, "Really? Do you know where _'Philomel, with melody; sing in our sweet melody…'_ is from, then? It sounds like something I recognize from somewhere, but I can't remember where; it's driving me mad."

Hermione chuckles in sympathy. "Yeah, that always drives me batty. I don't recognize it, but it's been so long since I saw any of the plays, I'm not sure I would know it right off the bat. By the way, Philomel, are you going to Hogwarts?"

Philomel looks disappointed, and she is, in more than just that Hermione didn't know. "No, I'm just here with my godfather, Mis—ah—Hermione. I hope I get to see you again, though. It's been lovely meeting you but my godfather is not the most patient person." Philomel says by way of explanation.

Hermione sighs, thinking, 'I wish she was, this is probably the only other girl I've seen in the magical world that has an interest in books. Philomel may be a little too polite but its okay; I just want someone to talk to.' Then Hermione brightens and says, "Maybe I could help you pick out books! I'm sure your godfather would understand if I just explained what took you so long."

Philomel looks around and then nods, gasping when Hermione grabs her hand and races off to another part of the store. The little snake hisses in consternation when Philomel's history book nearly hits her on the head, _/Missstresss, pleassse watch your thingsss! /_

Hermione finally stops at a part of the shop which looks highly disused and there is only one other person there, a young boy who scuttles off quickly once he catches sight of them. "Here we are! The fiction section!" Hermione takes a dusty book down off the shelf and flips it open. "All the best fiction that is written by wizards and published in the non-magical world because the wizarding world doesn't appreciate them. How I wish I could read all of them!"

Philomel nods but is not paying any attention to Hermione; an old, but still in good condition, book stands out amongst the rest for Philomel. She places the history book on the ground and reaches up to take the heavy-looking hardcover. "Dune by Frank Herbert." she whispers reverently. In a fit of temporary insanity, Philomel rubs it against her cheek, inhaling the dry papery scent. Once she comes back to her senses, Philomel stops but continues to rub her thumb along the spine2. Hermione is done looking at all the books and is waiting for Philomel when Philomel turns to look at her.

"Isn't it great? I never even knew that I was a witch until I got my Hogwarts letter let alone even thought that all these people would be as well. I suppose you've known all your life." mentions Hermione, calmly leading Philomel to a more popular section of the magical bookstore, Arithmancy.

Philomel looks around, not quite interested in the other books around her until a picture on one of them catches her eye. She runs a slight finger under her bangs and traces the scar there. _/How interesting. My scar is like that…what is it? Rune? /_

_/Missstresss do not worry about it. Oh, look, your guardian isss here. Bessst finish your busssinesss. /_ replies the snake, surprising Philomel, who hadn't known that she spoke in Parseltounge. True to the serpent's word, though, Severus strides up behind Philomel and Hermione.

"Philomel, I trust that you have found what you were looking for?" he requires. Severus smirks slightly when Hermione whirls around in shock.

"No, sir. But Miss Granger was showing me around, so I didn't get as many books as I would have liked on the politics of the wizarding world. Perhaps you could show me where that section is, sir?" replies Philomel formally, waving at Hermione, who curtseys gracefully.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Hermione Granger, may I know yours3?" she says respectfully. Severus smirks in amusement and inclines his head.

"Of course, I am Severus Snape and will be your Potions Professor when you go to Hogwarts. May I ask how you learned pureblood courtesies? I wasn't aware of a Granger family, no offense meant." replies Severus politely. Philomel wanders off while Hermione is explaining the book on wizarding pureblood culture that she found one day.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

'How odd. I didn't know that there was courtesies one magic-user paid another. Must find a book on that or ask Professor Snape. Hermione was nice enough but I really need to find a book on wizarding politics.' Philomel thinks as she browses through the different books on politics. Finding one that seems like it would be more comprehensive than the others on the shelf, Philomel pulls it down and places it with her other two books.

"I wonder if I should start trying to learn magic, if not practice outright?" muses Philomel out loud before deciding to look for one on basic charms and a mythology book. 'After all, you never know what might be important and it's always good to be prepared.'

Philomel's familiar hisses at her, _/Missstresss, when are we going to my new home? When will you name me? /_

Philomel is startled out of her book-induced reverie but answers calmly, _/I don't know. Perhaps, when I look through my books I will find a suitable name. Don't speak again, I think it draws attention… /_ It was true, Philomel's subtle hissing was drawing attention but Philomel ignored the stares.

Finally finding two books on mythology and a good-sized one on charms Philomel balances the five quite heavy books on her thin arms, the winged snake moving from Philomel's wrist to her neck; all the while hissing about inconsiderate mistresses.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Severus finally stops talking to Hermione and looks around for Philomel. Seeing her finally, he is about to go and collect her. Philomel then accidentally trips on the edge of a bookcase, causing the books to go flying.

"Why do I always trip when I'm carrying books?" moans Philomel, taking care not to damage any books that might have fallen open.

Severus snickers, reminded suddenly of a younger Lily. "I don't know Philomel, but perhaps it runs in the family. Your mother always used to do that as well." Severus stops laughing but is still smiling fondly when he takes some of Philomel's books. "Let's pay for these and is there anything else you think you will need Philomel?"

Philomel blushes and looks down at her ragged muggle boy clothes. "I-I couldn't ask for anything more…" she stammers.

Severus scowls and snaps, "You will, of course, be getting new clothes; both girl's and boys. It is my pleasure to escort my goddaughter wherever she needs to go and to take care of your needs now that your parents are gone. Those muggles are obviously poor guardians, if you act like you don't need new clothes, when you clearly do." Severus looks down at the young girl sympathetically and touches her head before going to the counter to pay for Philomel's books.

Philomel follows behind meekly, thinking, 'Professor Snape thinks my family doesn't take good care of me? But I'm just a burden on them, they are kind enough to give me Dudley's hand me downs. True, they call me a freak and make me sleep in a cupboard but it's still better than what could have happened, isn't it4? I don't want to be a burden on anyone else, especially someone as nice as Professor Snape.' Philomel stops on instinct before she hits Severus, who takes her books and places them on the counter and pays for them.

"Come, Philomel. We shall go into muggle London for your new clothes and we shall have to revisit Gringotts to change some money into pounds. Your familiar will need to hide, because wings on a snake rather stand out amongst muggles." orders Severus. Philomel stares for a moment then obediently follows Severus.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

At the end of the day Philomel had received two black skirts, two pairs of black slacks, four white blouses, underwear, and two pairs of black grandma boots for her to wear when she was not masquerading as Harry Potter. When she was, Philomel obtained four pairs of jeans, four suitable dress shirts, underwear, and two pairs of shoes which are not sneakers. Despite Philomel's ardent protests, she was dragged into an optometrist for new glasses.

They were thin, black, metal-rimmed ones that suited Philomel's thin face much better than the thick ones she'd had before.

"Philomel, I think that we should go back to Hogwarts. I don't want you to go back to those muggles when they so obviously dislike you." states Severus seriously. Philomel adjusts her new glasses, not quite used to them yet.

"That sounds fine, Professor. Will the Headmaster have the glamour? I'm not sure that I could stand more than one of those Portkey things today." replies Philomel neutrally. Her winged snake rubbed her miniscule wings against the back of Philomel's neck, hidden from view by Philomels long hair.

"I would assume so. Professor Dumbledore is rather quick on these things."

**:::**

_**Sarika: you are pathetic, Memories.**_

_**Memories: I'm so sorry everyone! It took so long and this chapter is only half par. Flame me on any other clichéness if you wish, but please let me know how to fix it! I swear, I'll try harder on the next chapter, but I can't promise a date for it to be out; school is killing me.**_

_**It was supposed to be a punishment; few people know how much Philomel loves to read.**_

_**This is what I do with my favorite books; Harry Potter included. It seemed better than having Philomel dance, which I also tend to do.**_

_**Okay, it's rather obvious to Hermione that Philomel and Severus are purebloods, and she's read a lot of books on wizarding culture. She is acting according to child pureblood to adult pureblood rules in place, not anything else. Later, Hermione might not be so courteous.**_

_**Take it from someone who knows; when you hear something enough times, you start to believe it. Even insults and things like that.**_


	5. Back so soon

_**Memories: Again, everyone I am so sorry for last chapter! This one should be better. Everyone knows that they have the right to flame me if they wish, right? Just a little recognition.**_

_**Sarika: Stop annoying the potential reviewers with your whining and do the disclaimer, Memories.**_

_**Memories: (sighs) Yes, Sarika, as ever, your each wish is my command. I do not own anything that is familiar from JK Rowling's Harry Potter is not mine.**_

"_Spell__."_

"Speech."

_/Parseltounge. /_

'Thoughts.'

_**(Author Notes)**_

**:::**

Philomel stumbled and almost tripped again, unused to wearing a skirt and stacked heels. "I really don't like those Portkeys." she mutters.

"Severus! There you are! Where is Philomel and who is this lovely girl that seems to be dressed like you?" pipes up Dumbledore, looking up from a puzzle of lemon drops. Severus just rolls his eyes while Philomel blushes silently.

"This is Philomel. I got her new clothes and I do not want to know what is popular right now so this is what she will wear. Better than what those heinous muggles had her wearing. And on that subject, Albus—" Severus begins but is cut of by a wave from Dumbledore.

"Not now, Severus. Now, Philomel, my dear, I have the perfect way to keep your glamour running for long periods of time and still have it hold up under scrutiny." Dumbledore holds out a thin silver necklace with a raven on it as a pendant. "Put this on. The necklace was once your mother's; Lily's parents got it in celebration of her being a Ravenclaw."

Philomel takes the delicate necklace and laces her hands behind her neck, ignoring her familiar's hiss of dismay. A slight tingle runs through her body and she gasps.

"Interestingly enough, the glamour seems to have changed your clothing as well, Philomel; or should I say _Harry_?" says Dumbledore with a slight snicker in his voice. Dumbledore then waves his wand at a chair and transfigures it into a mirror. Philomel peers curiously into and gasps at her appearance.

Severus looks at the reflection in the mirror with a slight sneer. "Albus, you made her look like Potter. Don't tell it was because of that comment when I first saw her."

Dumbledore smiles happily and replies, "Of course not, my boy! It's just that James was the only one I could make her look like. Lily was quite feminine, if you don't remember."

Philomel's once long hair is now relatively short and sticks up everywhere. It parts to reveal the pearly lightning scar in the middle of her head. Philomel's eyes are a little smaller than her female form and Philomel can't help but notice that she is also a little taller. The winged snake peeks at the image and hisses at her reflection.

_/That'sss not my missstresss! Ssstay away from my missstresss, ssstranger! /_ Philomel giggles momentarily at her familiar's antics.

_/That's me with a glamour on to change the way I look. It's a mirror and it shows our reflections. The human is me and the snake is you. /_ corrects Philomel. Dumbledore seems to finally figure out that there is a tiny winged snake around Philomel's neck when she hisses in Parseltounge.

"Oh, you have a familiar! Is that a Sirrush or an Ophies Pteretoi? Both are such a rarity these days…" he gushes like a little boy. Both Severus and Philomel stare incredulously.

"What are you talking about, Professor?" asks Severus. Philomel looks down at her familiar.

Dumbledore looks at both of them with that insufferable twinkle in his eyes. "A Sirrush is a dragon/feline/eagle hybrid. Now that I can see it better it's rather obvious that it is an Ophies Pteretoi, or winged snake. Did you know that both of those magical creatures were bred to protect? The Sirrush guarded the palace and the winged snake guarded date palms."

Philomel is looking rather thoughtful and starts to pet her snake. _/How would you like to be named Sirrush? /_

The winged snake immediately wends around Philomel's fingers and lovingly rubs her wings against the fingers. _/You've finally named me missstresss! Sssirrusssh isss a pretty name and I'd be honored, missstresss! /_

Dumbledore smiles and asks, "Have you named it yet?" Philomel turns a neutrally happy gaze to the Headmaster.

"Yes—"

Philomel gasps at the sound of her voice, it is deeper than her feminine one and she swallows heavily before continuing, "Yes, I named her Sirrush. She likes it."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkle in mirth and even Severus is smirking slightly. "I see that you have found out the other part of the glamour. We can't have a boy running around with such a beautifully feminine voice like yours."

Philomel nods but reaches up to take off the raven pendant. Once it's off, the glamour disappears into a swirl of smoke. Philomel shakes her head and runs her unoccupied hand through her long hair.

"Thank you for the compliment, sir, but it will take me awhile to get used to hearing myself like that."

Dumbledore smiles understandingly before raising his wand. "These are spells to pin up your hair, remember we talked about that this afternoon? _Trois tresses_._"_ Philomel's long tar black hair immediately twists itself into three separate braids that hit her hips now. Once that is done, Dumbledore pronounces another spell, _"__Cheville en haut__."_ Philomel's braids fly up and pin themselves into three topknots, leaving her bangs to frame Philomel's face.

Philomel bows her head slightly, unused to the weight. "Do you have spells for everything?"

Dumbledore nods, saying, "Sometimes, I think we do. But you'll need to remember those spells; you'll be doing them yourself."

Severus bends his head minutely to Dumbledore, before leading Philomel out of the Headmaster's office.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The next week, after Philomel has had time to adjust to the new identity, comes the time for her to venture into the wizarding world as Harry Potter. Sirrush was concealed as a bracelet, due to her vehement refusals to being left behind. Philomel was to wait in London as Harry and meet with Hagrid there.

Severus dropped her off. "Philomel, people will be very anxious meeting you and Hagrid is quite large and somewhat unaware of strength. Do not be afraid if he hugs you; just remind him of the necessity of breathing." he reminded Philomel, before whisking away.

A few moments later Hagrid came up to Philomel. "Yer Harry Potter, right?" he asks suspiciously. Philomel looks up and nods. "Harry! It's been so long!" Philomel squeaks when Hagrid hugs her tightly.

"Can't breathe…"

Hagrid drops her sheepishly and says, "Sorry, Harry. I don' know me own strength. Anyways, come wit me." He turns and leads Philomel to the Leaky Cauldron. "'Ere we are, The Leaky Cauldron! Right through 'ere is Diagon Alley."

Hagrid opens the door to the Leaky Cauldron and walks through it with Philomel following hesitantly.

As soon as Hagrid steps through, Tom, the bartender, asks, "Hagrid! Your usual?"

Hagrid replies proudly, but good-naturedly, "Can't Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business." Hagrid puts a hand on Philomel's shoulder and her knees begin to buckle before she locks them.

Tom peers at Philomel and recognizes her scar, which is left in plain sight. "My gods, it can't be—is this—?" Hagrid nods proudly. "Harry Potter…what an honor."

Philomel is swarmed by wizards and witches, all wishing to shake hands or say something to her.

"Harry Potter, I've always wanted to meet you…"

"Such an honor…"

"So proud…"

"I can't believe I got to shake your hand…"

Philomel was quite shocked, thinking quickly, 'Professor Snape said that I was famous but imagine all these people so thrilled to meet me.' She does not show any outward shock when a trembling man comes up to her and sticks out his hand; Philomel is still reeling from all the attention.

"P-P-Potter, c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you." says the man, shaking Philomel's hand. "I am P-Professor Q-Quirrel, your D-D-Defense A-Against the D-Dark A-Arts teacher."

Philomel tilts her head and draws back her hand, discreetly wiping it on her slacks; Quirrel's hands were quite sweaty. "Pleased to meet you, sir. I look forward to your classes this year."

A few more people come up to Philomel before Hagrid pulled her through to the entrance way of Diagon Alley. After a few confusing minutes Hagrid managed to tap out the correct sequence with his umbrella. Then he led Philomel to Gringotts; but not before he stopped and read the warning on the marble doors out loud.

"_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, Harry. Goblins are vicious creatures." Hagrid said, before steering Philomel to the same goblin that had helped her the week before. "I'm here with Harry Potter and Dumbledore sent me to get you-know-what from vault you-know-which."

The goblin raises a fuzzy eyebrow at Philomel and scoffs, "Well Mr. Potter, it appears you have a cousin. Might I suggest that you ask Professor Snape how she has a key though." Philomel just narrows her eyes at him then rolls them. The goblin looks a little suspicious before he calls Griphook over. "Two more visitors to the Potter vault, Griphook and to vault you-know-which."

Griphook leads Hagrid and Philomel to a cart. "This cart will take us to our destinations, Harry Potter, sir."

Philomel frowns somewhat but gets in the cart, with Hagrid following reluctantly this time. Once they were well on their way and Hagrid was suitably occupied trying not to lose his breakfast, Philomel leaned over and asked, "I thought that there has been no customer so far worthy of being polite to, Griphook; what changed?"

Griphook jumps and the cart sways menacingly. "I've only said that to your cousin! How would you know that!"

Philomel shrugs and pretends to be checking her nails. "Did you really think I wouldn't know about a family member? Philomel always sends me letters. Just answer the question, please. Is it because I do match the description of Harry Potter?"

Griphook snorts and immediately tries to deny the accusation. "We would never favor someone just because of their name!"

Philomel smiles and says, "Good, because Philomel and I wish to be judged on our character, not our first nor last name. We trust that the goblins have good judgment on this matter?" Philomel jokingly quirks an eyebrow, making sure that Griphook knew she didn't mean any offense. Griphook laughs.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

After Philomel and Hagrid had retrieved some money and a small package from their respective vaults, they went first to Ollivander's, yet again. Inside it was just the same as before, the same smells and everything. When he hears the bell Ollivander comes out.

"Good Afternoon, Mr. Potter. I've been waiting for you." Ollivander says softly. Then Ollivander's eyes flick to Hagrid, who squirms uncomfortably. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid, pleasure to see you again. Your wand was a sixteen inch oak wand, was it not? Shame it was snapped."

Hagrid blushes a dark crimson before nodding. Philomel noticed that he gripped a pink umbrella tightly but didn't question it.

Ollivander turns back to Philomel. "Now, Mr. Potter…Your wand hand, please?"

Philomel nods and holds out her right hand, having found that she preferred writing with that hand while she had the glamour on. Ollivander starts to measure her again and then leaves the tape measure to itself before going to look for wands. Many, many wands later Ollivander hands her a familiar wand.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Give it a wave, Mr. Potter."

Philomel raises it and feels the same feeling that she felt with her first wand. She waves it gently and a piercing birds-song comes out. Philomel can't help but think, 'That melody, it's like my lullaby. I can only assume that this lullaby is an important part of my life and/or magic.'

Ollivander is musing aloud, a pleased smile lighting his face, "Well Mr. Potter, this is the second time this summer that that particular song has been part of someone. How, may I ask, do you know this song? It is quite unusual for something of this magnitude to be such a big part of two unrelated peoples' lives. But then that leads one to the thought that perhaps you and she are not so unrelated. You do look quite alike and she felt a connection with that wand as well. Hmmm, I wonder…" Ollivander taps a finger against thin lips before a sly twinkle comes into his eyes. "Yes, they would do that. And Miss Evans always did like Shakespeare."

Philomel freezes when Ollivander mentions Shakespeare, considering almost desperately, 'Hermione mentioned Shakespeare when I asked her! He must have written something with my lullaby in it. But which play did he put it in?' Ollivander smiles slyly.

"Mr. Potter, you must know this; it is quite curious." Philomel tilts her head to show that she is listening. "You wand has a core from the exact same phoenix as the wand that gave you your scar. Normally, a magical creature does not give more than one wand core. I assume that you'll try to find out as much as you can on sister wands, though, I'm sure. Seven galleons please."

Philomel sighs and pulls out the appropriate amount of change, then woke up Hagrid.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

After Hagrid left on an errand, Philomel highly doubted that but didn't protest, Philomel went on to find her school supplies and robes. She smiled shyly at everyone who commented on her scar but was skittish when people started to touch her shoulders. Finally she ducks into Madame Malkin's for school robes. Inside she is lead to the same footstool as before. Lo and behold, Draco Malfoy is there once again.

"Hello, you're going to Hogwarts as well?"

Philomel nods then says politely, "Yes. My name is Harry Potter, what is yours?"

Draco's eyebrow arches at Philomel's name but simply replies, "Really? My name is Draco Malfoy. Have you thought about what House you'll be in? I'll be in Slytherin; my entire family was. I expect, with your history, you'll be in Gryffindor." Philomel can tell that Draco is trying to make a good impression, though she thinks his approach is rather pretentious; she holds no illusions on her influence.

"Oh, I don't know. Ravenclaw sounds better to me. At least there people are willing to plan ahead before charging into something1."

Madame Malkin comes back with a few robes Philomel's size when she has the glamour on. Philomel takes them with a slight bow and a thank you. While she is preparing to walk out Draco calls out, "Harry, I'll see you on the train?"

Philomel turns back and dips her head, saying, "Perhaps, Mr. Malfoy. In any case, see you at school."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

After Philomel had gotten all her school supplies and was about to go back into the apothecary's to see if they had any potions' books, Hagrid comes back with one hand behind his back.

"There yeh are, Harry! Been lookin' for yeh. Have yeh got all yer things?" asks Hagrid. Philomel nods and glances toward the apothecary's. Hagrid doesn't notice and continues, "Look what I've got yeh for yer birthday, Harry!" At this Hagrid pulls a cage with a small dun2 colored bird inside it from behind his back.

Sirrush, who had been quiet for the entire trip hisses quickly at the intruder, _/Keep away from my missstresss. You will not hurt her asss long asss I am here. /_ The bird just gives Sirrush a yellow stare. Philomel nearly panics and calms Sirrush down with frantic petting of her wings.

"That's a nice bracelet yeh have there, Harry."

Philomel nods and whispers a polite thank you but nothing more. Hagrid starts to lead her back to the Leaky Cauldron. Philomel spares one more glance to the apothecary's before following Hagrid.

**:::**

_**Thank you everyone who has read this and reviewed, I never expected so many people would like it. By the way, both the Sirrush and the Ophies Pteretoi are legit mythical creatures and an explanation of the Ophies Pteretoi will be in my profile. The spells are both French: "Tresses Trois" means three braids and "Cheville en haut" means pin up. If anyone finds my French lacking, please send me the correct way. The tiny bird that Hagrid got Philomel is a nightingale; I thought it was hilariously ironic, given what Philomel means. See my profile for a link to explanation of this.**_

_**A major problem with Gryffindors in my opinion, humble though it is when compared with the great JKR. I think that Harry would not have this major guilt problem had he been sorted into Slytherin. I mean really, when, besides the sixth book with Draco, have you seen a Slytherin so beat up with guilt? It's like a Gryffindor's chronic disease.**_

_**A**__** variable color averaging a nearly neutral slightly brownish dark gray.**_


	6. A train ride

_**Memories, yet again.**_

_**Sarika: who else would it be? No one but you knows your password and you are so paranoid as to make your friends close their eyes.**_

_**Memories: One can't be too careful, Sarika. Trust no one.**_

_**Sarika: (rolls eyes) Oh for bibliophilia, Memories you need to just do the disclaimer. Lawyers tend to get testy when you don't.**_

_**Memories: Yes, Sarika, once again, you are my commander. I do not own Harry Potter, as is obvious by his name. I have taste with names. Also, Ginny would have died in the second book; and Tom would have had a nice time with twelve-year old Harry. Please don't kill me Sarika.**_

_**Sarika: Why would I? It's a perfectly drool-worthy idea. Though we will not write it. We will write Lullaby, isn't that right?**_

_**Memories: Yes, Sarika, we will write Lullaby.**_

"_Spell__."_

"Speech."

_/Parseltounge. /_

'Thoughts.'

_**(Author Notes)**_

"_**Another language**__**"**_

**:::**

Philomel was left in a busy restaurant by Hagrid after she assured him that her guardians would come pick her up. Hagrid took her at her word and paid for the meal before leaving. Shortly after Philomel finished her small meal of a salad, Severus came to Philomel's table.

"Harry, are you done?"

Philomel nods and gets up. Once they are both outside, Severus holds out a piece of string. Philomel barely has time to wrinkle her nose and take it before they disappear.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

They arrive at Platform 9 3/4 quite early and there's barely anyone there. Quickly looking around, Severus steers Philomel into a secluded spot.

"Philomel, I want you to understand that at Hogwarts my actions towards you will not be anything that displays my true feelings. It is a façade that I'm forced to put on to fool some people who might report my so-called lapse in demeanor. Anything I say in regards to you or your mother I most likely will not mean. You will always be welcome to send me letters and in an emergency come to me for help." Severus explains. Philomel is looking quite confused by this time.

"Yes sir, but what about you will be different?"

Severus sighs and looks around again to make sure that they are still alone. "I will be cruel, perhaps even sadistic, to you. Any lapse that you have in any subject I will most likely drive in till I won't blame you if you hate me. Your appearance, your heritage, your choices, your fame, nothing will be left out. I don't think that I'll be able to forgive myself, let alone let myself believe that you would forgive me." Severus breaks eye contact with Philomel and continues, "I know that Lily most definitely would never forgive me."

Philomel bites her lip again, still unconscious of doing so, and replies, "Professor, whatever you do, I'm sure that other people will do worse. You have no idea how cruel children can be."

Severus nods and straightens before sneering, "Get on the train, Potter. Hopefully I won't have the misfortune to have to escort you yet again."

Philomel dips her head toward Severus and gathers her things before edging in a polite, "Yes, sir, thank you for your time."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel is storing a heavy trunk and trying desperately not to fall under its weight when it is lifted out of her hands by two pairs of freckled hands.

"Need a hand, mate?" asked one of the twins. Philomel nods thankfully.

"We're Fred and George Weasley, who're you?" asked the other.

Philomel shyly casts her eyes down and says, "My name is Harry Potter."

"Really?"

"He is—"

"See the scar?"

The twins are silent for a moment before they say, "Blimey." together.

Each of the twins shake one of Philomel's hands then race off. She stares after them for a moment before venturing into the train compartment. Philomel brings out a thick transfiguration book and sets it open to her page before staring out the window.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Some time later a red-headed boy pops his head into Philomel's compartment and asks, "Is anyone else sitting here? Everywhere else is full." Philomel shakes her head and motions for the boy to sit down.

"Hi, I'm Ron Weasley. Who are you?"

Philomel winces slightly at the thought having another person shake her hand but replies, "Harry Potter."

Ron, however, just gapes a little and asks, "Really? Have you got that scar?"

Philomel rolls her eyes inconspicuously and reins in her impulses to throw something at him for asking if she was sure about who she was before pushing back her hair to reveal the lightning bolt scar.

"So that's where You-Know-Who--?"

"Yes. Voldemort tried to kill me and this is what is left."

"Wow. Do you remember any of it?" asks Ron after he gets over the fact that Philomel had said Voldemort's name.

"I was one at the time. Do you remember what happened when you were one?" Philomel snaps, impatient with the nonsensical questions despite the fact that she did remember it somewhat. Right then, Draco comes in to the compartment.

"Harry, there you are, I've been looking everywhere. Wait, what are you doing with a _Weasley_?" he sneers upon seeing Ron. Ron himself turns red with anger.

"He's doing what he wants, _Malfoy_! Talking to someone that is not a spoiled brat!" Ron retorts, not giving Philomel time to answer.

Philomel watches the two trade insults with disgust before closing her book and picking up her nightingale's cage. "Messrs. Malfoy and Weasley, I can't believe that you would sink this low. If you cannot get over yourselves enough to accept my choice of companions then I suggest that you do not try and talk to me again." Philomel states before walking out the sliding door leaving two confused boys staring after her.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel realized halfway down the hallway that by walking out of her compartment, she had just given up a place to stay for the duration of the train ride. 'Damn, I should have just kicked them out.'

Philomel decides to just go in another compartment before one of the boys comes out and sees her. Choosing one that only had one person in it by the silhouettes that could be seen through the glass, she goes in.

"I'm sorry for intruding but could I sit in here?" Philomel asks quietly. The boy that was sitting staring out the window turns and smiles at her.

"My dear boy, but of course! My name is Michele Romani, what about you?"

Philomel sighs annoyed prematurely by her fame under a boy's name. "Harry Potter, Mr. Romani."

Michele smiles and motions for her to sit while babbling in broken English, "That's wonderful! Please, call me Michele; this is my second year here at Hogwarts; you must be a first year, because I didn't see you last year. Any idea on what House you'll be in? I'm in Ravenclaw, myself."

Philomel is determinedly not staring and is instead trying to figure out what Michele's accent is; confusion sparking in her green eyes. "Where are you from? Your accent isn't English."

Michele beams with pride before replying, "_**Il grande metropoli di Roma**_ 1, of course! My parents moved to England two years ago. You're probably from England, aren't you?"

Philomel is looking obviously confused but latches on to the one vaguely familiar word in the entire first part of the first sentence and replies, "You're from Rome?"

Michele nods yes and opens his mouth to speak again but the door slides open to show Hermione and an unknown boy.

"Have either of you two seen a toad around here? Neville here has lost one."

Philomel and Michele look up and Michele answers in his usual condescending manner, "No, I haven't seen any toad, have you Harry?"

Philomel shakes her head. "Have you checked the bathrooms? Aren't toads supposed to like the damp?"

Hermione smacks her forehead before exclaiming, "Now, why didn't I think of that? By the way, my name is Hermione Granger, what's yours?"

"I am Michele Romani."

"Harry Potter."

Hermione gasps and starts to babble and Philomel begins to stare while Michele snickers. Neville wandered off to the bathrooms to look for his toad.

"Wow, I know all about the defeat of the Dark Lord; well as much as one can without witnesses and reliable, undeniable, concrete facts. I would have liked to know more about _you_ but none of the books I read ever mentioned your family life, or even if you actually knew what had happened! In most of the books it was just page after page of supposed _details_ of how a one-year old baby heroically defeated the Dark Lord and survived the dreaded Killing Curse due to your mothers sacrifice. No offense meant to your mother but I'm sure that quite a few people would be willing to die for their children so why did that make you special? Was she saying a spell, or was it something else? Do either of you have any ideas, especially you, Harry, it would be a real treat to hear what the real boy-who-lived has to say on his own past -- " Hermione stops to take a breath and Michele cuts in before she can get going again.

"Now settle down, Hermione. Let us stop talking about Harry and start talking about more normal things like what House you think you'll be in. Besides," Michele smirks, "I think you've scared him."

Philomel has decided to stop staring and go back to her transfiguration book. Both Hermione and Michele notice what she is reading and both have similar reactions.

"You're reading ahead, Harry? That is very good, especially for Professor McGonagall. She is quite strict and demanding, though no more so than Professor Snape."

"Smashing, someone else has read ahead. That's great, I heard that they start on the work right away from a professor I met in Diagon Alley who was there with his goddaughter. They both seemed rather formal, especially Philomel. Somewhat like you, now that I think about it, Harry. Come to think of it, you two look rather alike as well." Philomel stiffens and pales a bit. Hermione thinks for a moment than waves it off, "It must be a coincidence. Unless you're hiding a big secret, but then surely some people would know. I mean, after all you wouldn't be called the boy-who-lived if you were a girl, now would you?"

Philomel pales a bit more but just nods, agreeing with Hermione's assessment. The three talk a bit about what they've learned for a little while; both Hermione and Philomel completely thrown off-kilter by Michele's occasional inappropriate remarks, as well as his condescending manner. After some time has passed, a smiling woman pushing a cart full of treats comes to their door.

"Anything off the cart, dearies?"

Michele immediately starts to pick up a few of the chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties. Hermione hesitantly takes one cauldron cake. Philomel looks over the various sweets with her nose wrinkled up in slight disgust. Finally, she chooses two sugar quills from the cart, and pays for them.

"So, Harry, what did you get?" asks Michele, while grasping a chocolate frog hard whilst reading the card. Philomel shrugs and hands him one of the sugar quills.

"Ah, sugar quills. Quite good, if I recall. Pure sugar is quite tempting, if I do say so myself."

Philomel doesn't reply, just starts to suck on the one. Evidently she finds it to her liking, because she does not stop until it is time for them to change into their robes.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Once the train stops, Michele, Hermione, and Philomel part ways for the time being.

"Now children, you get to ride in the boats while _I_ get to ride in the carriages. Next year, you'll be able to ride in the carriage with the big kiddies." Michele says in a tone that has Hermione glaring daggers and Philomel smirking while muttering things like 'pompous git.' under her breath.

Hagrid begins to call over the first years, so Michele pats their heads before going off. Philomel and Hermione make their way to Hagrid. Once all the first years have been filtered from the upper classes, Hagrid leads them to rickety looking boats, which Philomel distinctly mistrusts.

"No more'n four to a boat!"

Hermione and Philomel get into a boat together with Neville and a somewhat arrogant black boy named Blaise Zabini. Hermione leans over and whispers into Philomel's ear, "At least we know what Michele meant, now."

Philomel nods fervently. Any other attempts at conversation are cut short when the first years get their first glimpse of Hogwarts. Even Philomel, who had already seen it and had indeed been living there for just about a week, had her breath taken away at the sight of the beautiful old castle. The boats go underneath a low bridge which comes out onto a docking station. The students get out of the boats carefully and Hagrid makes sure everyone is out before leading them up a path to the front doors where Professor McGonagall is waiting.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Hagrid nods his shaggy head and leaves the first years to the care of the transfiguration Professor.

McGonagall pulls open the door, revealing the huge entrance hall with flaming, lit torches lighting the room. The first years follow McGonagall as she leads them into a small empty chamber just off the hall, almost too small to fit all the students.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," began Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Professor McGonagall looks over them for a minute before continuing her speech.

"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." She then leaves the chamber. The students stay silent for a moment before breaking into whispers. Hermione starts to babble about the spells she's learned since she got her letter on account of something she overheard Ron Weasley saying. Philomel draws into her self at the proximity of all the people; Hermione doesn't notice.

Then ghosts come through the wall and they are fighting about someone named Peeves.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –" said the fat little monk benevolently.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?" replies a ghost wearing a decidedly Shakespearean outfit before noticing the gathered first years, some of whom look ready to either faint or running screaming.

The Friar beams at the children, somewhat more perceptive than his companion, and answers for them, "New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose?" Some people nod, among them a fascinated Hermione and Philomel. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know."

McGonagall's strict voice comes in, cutting off the friendly ghost, "Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." The two ghosts float off through the opposing wall.

McGonagall waits until she's sure they're gone before ordering, "Now, form a line, and follow me."

The first years obediently form a somewhat crooked line and follow Professor McGonagall through another set of huge doors and into the Great Hall.

**:::**

_**I know I know, I ended it right before the Sorting, but believe me; the chapter would have been too long if I hadn't. And before anyone asks, I know Michele is a bit arrogant but he does this to annoy people. And yes, he can speak English without all the Italian words dropped in but he'll only do this for a teacher. Oh, and technically, Ron insulted Draco first still but it's still somewhat like splitting hairs. Next chapter, I'm going to cover Hermione's Sorting as well as Philomel's, purely for my own enjoyment and to make sure that you know why I changed what I did. Any other questions, direct them to me in whatever form you wish.**_

_**He's saying "The great city of Rome" in Italian, because he's a prick. That will be the only Italian he'll ever speak in this Trilogy, because I hate it, my reviewers hate it, and I pretty sure that I'll lose readers if I edit this entire fic and leave that out.**_


	7. sorting and a house but not a home

_**Sarika: You take too long.**_

_**Memories: Yes, I'm truly sorry everyone; school was being bitchy again. At least review my ending for this chapter, it's my pride and joy right now.**_

_**Sarika: First they have to read a disclaimer and the chapter, you stupid author.**_

_**Memories: Of course, how would I think without you, Sarika? I am not JKR. I am not good at canon. I very much like slash, as well as support the dark side (in canon!). So if you think this is the real thing, I'm flattered but you are very much mistaken. Enjoy the chapter.**_

**:::**

The first thing that Philomel notices is the ceiling. It is an almost touchable black dotted with stars that shine like raindrops on a spider's web. "Bewitched to look like the sky outside. I wish I could make something so beautiful." whispers Philomel.

Hermione smiles and sighs, "Isn't that what we're here for, Harry?"

Philomel tilts her head and looks around without answering. The raggedy old hat that is sitting on a chair with almost everyone staring at it somewhat patiently catches her attention next, along with a strong desire to clean it. 'Someone should take better care of that hat, it needs patching and, at the very least, a good cleaning. To let something still so useful to be let go like that is undeniably wasteful. I would not have lasted through the winters if not for my sewing skills and Aunt Petunia's kind allowance of me using her needles. I wonder if I'll be allowed to sew here, I don't want to cost Professor Snape anymore time and money. And must find time to write to Gringotts, I was not able to ask for a full outlook of my account there. Wait is that hat _moving_?'

Philomel is shocked out of her thoughts to find that it is indeed moving. And starting to sing the Sorting song:

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The Great Hall breaks into a loud, polite applause which quiets quite soon after McGonagall glares, as does Severus. McGonagall clears her throat and begins to call out names:

"Abbott, Hannah!"

The blonde girl scrambles up to the stool on which the Hat sits and jams it on her head. After a slight pause the Hat shouts, "HUFFLEPUFF." The table with yellow and black banners above them cheers.

"Bones, Susan!"

Another Hufflepuff was welcomed and the Fat Friar was looking quite pleased.

"Boot, Terry!"

This time it was the blue and white table that enthusiastically welcomed another into their fold.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

She also became a Ravenclaw to cheers from her new House.

"Brown, Lavender!"

This girl became the first new Gryffindor and the red and gold table exploded into cheers.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

This scowling girl became a Slytherin and was welcomed with polite applause.

Philomel became lost in her thoughts again for a bit, mostly thinking about what she would write to Gringotts and who she would write it as. She's jerked back into the real world by McGonagall calling out Hermione's name. The girl leaves her place next to Philomel to go to the stool.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

**Hermione's Sorting **_**(I just wanted to add it so bad, there's a big break from canon in this section)**_

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

'_Hello, child. I can see where I want you to go, such a thirst for knowledge of all kinds in your head. Ravenclaw would do well for you.'_

Hermione, not entirely surprised by the voice in her head, scowls. 'But, in Ravenclaw, I wouldn't be special for my abilities.'

'_Of course you would, Hermione. In the other Houses, your intelligence might not be as valued as in Ravenclaw. I think that you would do quite well in Ravenclaw. You might even be able to make some friends that share your interest, not that you haven't already made a good one in Michele.'_

Hermione's scowl deepens then she smiles slyly. 'What about Gryffindor?'

The Hat roars out in laughter, _"Gryffindor!"_ Hermione quickly takes it off and nearly skips over to the red and gold table. Before she even reaches halfway, the Hat calls out amusedly, _"No, my dear, you belong in RAVENCLAW!"_ Though it adds a quiet afterthought, _"Perhaps you should be in Slytherin. Oh well, no matter."_

Severus hears this last part and nearly chokes on his drink. Dumbledore looks over at him, eyes twinkling more than Christmas lights, showing that he too heard.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel watches as Hermione goes and sits next to Michele, scowling a bit when he begins to congratulate her in that annoying way he had. Philomel goes back to composing her Gringotts letter, which takes up quite a bit of the Sorting Ceremony and is halted by her own pseudonym.

"Potter, Harry!"

Philomel walks quickly up to the Hat amidst whispers, stares, and pointing fingers. She puts it on her head and pulls it over her eyes to block everything out.

"_Hello, Mister—Ah, no—__Miss__ Potter. Hmm, difficult. Well, there is one thing I can see, you do not belong in Gryffindor. Very difficult. Where would you like to be, Philomel?"_

Philomel is slightly shocked when the Hat speaks into her head but replies, 'Either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, I've heard good things about both.'

'_Unusual, one with perspective on what truly goes on in the Houses. I must admit, you would do well in both; though Slytherin may be a little harsh when they find out.'_

Philomel mentally tallies that up with the cons on the Slytherin list before answering, 'Would Ravenclaw accept me?'

'_Well, my dear, don't think that I can speak for all of them, but yes, I imagine that most of the Ravenclaws would acknowledge your right to happiness. So Ravenclaw it is then. I hope to talk to you again soon; I might be able to help you with that song that plagues your thoughts.'_

With the cry of _"Ravenclaw!"_, Philomel takes off the Hat before going to sit with Michele and Hermione; amid loud cheers from the Ravens.

"Congratulations! I thought you would make a good Raven, my dear boy." says Michele when Philomel sits.

"This is terrific! I thought that you'd be a Gryffindor for sure. But this way we'll have classes together." pipes up Hermione. Michele smirks at her.

"Is that why you tried to get into the lion's den, my dear girl?"

Hermione tilts her head up to the Head Table to listen to Dumbledore speak, completely ignoring Michele.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

Philomel stares at the plates that are filling with food impassively but inside she's laughing quietly. 'I always did think the Headmaster was a bit mad when I was staying here over the summer.'

Before Philomel starts to eat, she first pulls her transfiguration book out from under her robes and resized it to its proper size. Settling it on her lap, open to her page, Philomel starts to eat delicately. Most of the elder Ravenclaws see and approve of the new Raven's ingenuity. A couple of the prefects frown on it but say nothing, noting the title.

_/Missstresss, I'm hungry! Pleassse feed me, there isss food on that table, may I eat? /_

Philomel glances around and gently takes the coiled snake off her arm and sets Sirrush down on the table delicately before hissing quietly, _/Hurry, Sirrush. Try not to let anyone see you. When you're done, coil back around my wrist. /_

Sirrush quickly helps herself to a piece of fruit on Philomel's plate. As it just so happens Hermione looks down at Philomel's plate to make sure that she's eating. To her credit, Hermione did not scream or anything but did jab Philomel in the arm quite hard.

Philomel looks over at Hermione and snipes, "_Yes_, what did you need, Hermione?"

"There's a winged snake eating from your plate, Harry." Hermione looks closely at Sirrush. "It looks rather like your bracelet. And," Hermione squints even closer at Sirrush, surprisingly drawing no unwanted attention from anyone, "it also looks like that girls, Philomel's, bracelet. What are the odds of you two looking some much alike and having the same taste in jewelry, or pets, as well as the same manners?"

Philomel stiffens but manages to look impassive. "I would imagine very high. Surely this girl and I have quite a few differences. But, yes, this is my familiar, Sirrush."

Hermione stares suspiciously into Philomel's eyes for a moment before whispering, "No, no, I think it would be a very slim margin with this many factors. And you two are frighteningly similar for two people who've never met. But this is quite a beautiful familiar, Harry. Best be careful no one else sees it though. Snakes aren't allowed, you know."

Philomel nods in thanks and picks up Sirrush and wraps the snake back around her wrist. "Hermione, do you know when the feast ends? I want to take care of some things that I didn't get a chance to before."

Hermione is about to reply when Dumbledore rose to his feet, silencing all conversation.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." At that Dumbledore looks over at the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

A few laughed at the last statement, but Philomel was not among them. She stared impassively up at the High Table until a tugging sensation in her forehead made her look down. By the time she'd looked back up, Dumbledore had his wand out and is flicking it, causing a long golden ribbon to fly out of it. The ribbon twists itself into words. Dumbledore says, "Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

People finished at different times. Philomel, who picked it up somewhere in the middle after she got over her shock, finished quickly, singing to the tune of her lullaby. The twins that she met on the train finished last, singing to a slow funeral march.

"Ah, music," said Dumbledore, tearfully. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The Ravenclaw first years follow an older female prefect through the halls until they come to an empty, dusty, old room just off the Library. A slight breeze whisks through the room, stirring up dust. For a moment, Philomel thinks she sees an androgynous figure in the gloomy dust, but dismisses it as pure imagination; until the prefect speaks to it.

"_Doctrina, EGO fero tuli latum vos thema_."1

The dust figure sweeps around the room, touching all the first years with windy, gritty fingers. A hollow voice sounds all around them, _"Password, scholars?"_

The prefect pronounces the password clearly so that everyone can hear her, "Herman Melville."2

The grainy figure nods saying, _"You may enter."_ before all the dust is blown away, as well as the image of the small room; leaving in its place a cozy room with striped bronze and navy walls and light blue shag carpet. A huge fireplace is going brightly, warming the room. There are white, striped with light blue, chairs and sofas scattered about the rooms. But what really gains the attention of all the first years are the huge bookshelves lining the walls, packed with books of all kinds. Philomel's hands twitch in anticipation of reading them before she thinks, 'Surely we won't be allowed to touch them, they must be for the older students. Still, what a magnificent place to be…' Hermione twitches as well, but her hand shoots up.

"Are we allowed to read those books, miss?"

The prefect looks slightly shocked at such a question, but answers, "Why would we put them up there, elsewise? I'm sure their former owners would be appalled if you did not read their books. But, for now, I suggest you all go to bed. Girls through the door on our left, Boys through the right. Don't forget the password; you'll need it to get out as well. It'll change every month, according to the most popular author that month. Tomorrow, you'll be introduced to our Head of House as well as receiving your schedule. You lose points, you gain them back. Good night everyone."

Once most of the people had cleared out, Hermione said goodnight to Philomel and Michele, "Night Harry, Michele. See you tomorrow?"

Philomel nods but Michele waves a cheery, "Sleep tight, good night, my dear little friends." before bounding over to another door. Philomel tentatively goes into the boys' dormitory and claims her bed, the last one available; the one stuck in a corner. Philomel strips and changes into her pajamas, with her eyes closed to avoid seeing anything. After she is safely tucked into her dark blue bed with the curtains closed tight and spell-locked, Philomel removes her mother's necklace and sighs as she goes to sleep. Sirrush slithers up next to Philomel hissing softly.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel hears a voice singing from the shadows, strains from her barely remembered lullaby.

'Odd, that's not my mother's voice, is it? It doesn't sound the same…'

"_Philomel, with melody,_

_Sing in our sweet lullaby;_

_Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,_

_Never harm,_

_Nor spell, nor charm,_

_Come our lovely lady nigh,_

_So, good night, with Lullaby."_

Crystal lightning bolts come from the surrounding shadows and trap something in a glittering cage. Though the rest of what Philomel can see is still wreathed in shadows, the figure is clear through the sparks. It turns around, but before Philomel can see who it is, a green light blinds her, throwing her back. When she pushes herself up, the ground is a mass of writhing creepy-crawlies. Surprising even herself, Philomel is unafraid, even grateful that they are there.

"Thank you…"

Then, Philomel turns over and the dream is no more.

**:::**

_**The entrance to the Ravenclaw dorms may be a little overdramatic, but I saw the dust figure in a book and just had to find some way to add it in. I've decided to make Philomel's Lullaby cover first and second year, so from now on, the chapters will cover more. This story, like all my others, will most likely be highly AU. If that bothers you, it kind of makes me wonder why you're reading things about a girl!Harry. I'll leave the canon to J.K.R. She's good at it.**_

_**The Latin that the prefect spoke means, "Learning, I bring you subjects." Trite, I know, thank you.**_

_**For those that don't know, Herman Melville wrote the novel, **__**Moby Dick**__**. You know, the crazy obsessed guy going after a huge white whale? Yes, that one.**_


	8. Classes and a Halloween story

_**Memories: Well, I'm terribly sorry for the wait and it's going to be really long before the next one is out because I'm going to try and write a chapter ahead before I publish it. The main reasons my chapters take so long is lack of inspiration and lack of motivation and lack of time.**_

_**Sarika: Don't forget your other news, Memories.**_

_**Memories: Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. After this chapter, Michele will not be speaking Italian anymore. I really didn't like doing it, and I've got complaints from people. Thanks to all my reviewers and everyone who stayed with me during the time period in which I had no motivation. You really are an inspiration and I hope to the Gods and Dreamers that I don't disappoint you.**_

_**Sarika: Memories owns nothing but Michele. The others haven't yet arrived.**_

"_Spell__."_

"Speech."

_/Parseltounge. /_

'Thoughts.'

_**(Author Notes)**_

"_**Another language**__**"**_

'**Writings'**

_**Edit: Well, for those of you who have kept up on my edits, you already know that I've taken Michele's Italian away and just made him a prick who speaks English. The reasons are the same as those I've given above and before.**_

**:::**

"Well this is rather unexpected."

Philomel's eyes fly open at the familiar voice and she turns quickly over to look at Michele. "What, Michele? Please, close them before anyone else sees, Michele, please."

Michele pulls them closed, but speaks through the fabric while Philomel gets dressed. "I thought something was off about you, my dearest girl. I figured it out after Hermione voiced her suspicions. But, still, did you think you could fool us for long? My dear girl, did you think that some would not figure it out? Perhaps, if you did not act like yourself; but it's too late now. To pull off such an act would require help; one cannot do it on one's own."

Philomel slips out of the bed and immediately begins to beg, "Please, Michele, you won't tell anyone, will you? This is supposedly for my protection, please, Michele."

Michele rolls his eyes but nods. "Now calm down, my dear girl. Now, get up, as much as I love having a pretty girl begging me on her knees. I will not tell anyone. Though you might want to inform Hermione. Ah, speak of the devil and the devil will come."

Hermione was waiting in the common room, eyes flicking over the various books then into a brief glare at Michele. "There you are, Harry, Michele! I was waiting for you. Can you believe that this is the first day of school, Harry? And these books seem fascinating; I simply can't wait for a little free time. You ready?"

Both Philomel and Michele nod. Hermione whispers, "Herman Melville."

The common room disappears in a swirl of dust and air, reappearing as the old, abandoned room. Philomel sees the dust guardian watching them before disappearing. Hermione pulls Philomel and Michele to the Great Hall where breakfast was waiting for them.

Once there, a middle-aged witch with brown hair swept up into a messy bun passes out their schedules before introducing herself. "I am Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher and Ravenclaw Head of House. You will not have me until your third year; I look forward to it. This evening there will be a formal introduction into Ravenclaw. You are expected to be there. Do your best to not lose any points today, all will be explained in the evening. Good day to you three. Michele, make sure to behave around the other professors."

As Vector walks away, Michele smirks and asks, "So, what do you both have today?"

Hermione looks at the parchment in her hands and says happily, "Potions first then Transfiguration. In the afternoon I have double History of Magic. What do you have Harry?"

Philomel glances at her own schedule before replying politely, "I have the same as you. Tomorrow, I have double Defense Against the Dark Arts then Charms and Herbology in the afternoon. Wednesday, I have Potions then Transfiguration. Thursday, I have Charms, History of Magic, then Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology. Friday, I have Potions and Transfiguration then Charms and Herbology."

Hermione looks over the rest of her own then says, surprised, "We have all the same classes! I mean, I assumed that we would have a lot of them together, but not all!"

Michele chuckles. "Now children, of course you do. You are in the same year and House. Now, I have to go to my own classes. Be good, and I'll see you two later."

Michele walks away, leaving the two first years. Then Hermione realizes the time and grabs Philomel before dashing off to the dungeons. The two Ravenclaws slip into the Potions dungeon with plenty of time to set out their things. Philomel lays out a piece of parchment and a quill, making sure that anything else needed for Potions was quite accessible. Hermione, on the other hand, set out her wand and many things not needed for Potions.

Moments later, Severus stalks in and begins to call roll. As soon as he gets to 'Harry Potter', he gains a sneer and glares in Philomel's direction.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter, our newest _celebrity_. What an _honour_."

Philomel lowers her eyes demurely at his inspection. Severus sneers at her again and continues on with the roll call.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." The class was absolutely silent and heard every word, though he only spoke in a low voice barely above a whisper. Severus had an aura that kept normally rowdy children, quiet and obedient.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence. Hermione has long since swiped her wand from her desk and secreted it somewhere, now she looks desperate to prove her worth to the potions professor.

Severus suddenly snaps out, "Potter! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Hermione's hand shoots up.

Philomel responds instantly, "In the stomach of the goat, sir. This stone will save you from most poisons."

Severus sneers, looking a little pained. "Correct. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Hermione's hand reaches a new height.

Philomel's answer is less swift this time but still correct, "Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant that also goes by aconite, leopard's bane, women's bane, Devil's helmet, and blue rocket. Muggles know it by aconite."

Severus grinds his teeth then asks, "Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Philomel looks stricken for a moment then regains her composure. In a shaky voice she answers, "I'm sorry, sir, I do not know that combination. Apparently, my knowledge is severely lacking in respect to this class and I will do all that is in my power to remedy this lapse." The Slytherins all look at her incredulously; the use of such _polite_ language was usually restricted to the purebloods that were raised as such. Severus hides his reaction before smirking.

"Tut, tut, fame clearly isn't everything. For your information," Severus sneers at Philomel before continuing, "It produces the Draught of the Living Death." To the rest of the class, who had been watching Philomel and the potions professor like a tennis match, Severus snaps, "Why aren't you copying this down?"

The rest of the class was relatively quiet, except for when Draco pulled Philomel aside after they'd finished their potions.

Philomel looks curiously at Draco. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco glances around to make sure no one is listening before whispering, "Harry, I want to repair your opinion of my behavior on the Express. I clearly had no right to try and choose your friends for you. I will refrain from disparaging any you call friend again, if that is your wish. I really do want to get to know you better, Harry."

Philomel sighs mentally, thinking, 'Why is it that no one here wants to come out and say an apology? Well it is better than nothing, not that I really expected this to happen.'

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I didn't expect any reparations to be attempted, so you have already far exceeded any hope I had. I also look forward to getting to know you, as well."

The bell rings above them and they gather their things and go their separate ways. Hermione falls in next to Philomel.

"Who was that, Harry?" asked Hermione on their way to Transfiguration.

"That was Draco Malfoy. I met on the train before I met you and Michele. He was just apologizing for insulting the first person I met on the train."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." was the speech made by the Transfiguration professor, McGonagall, at the start of class. Then she lectured on how to change a matchstick into a needle before demonstrating it. Then McGonagall assigned the class to work on transfiguring their matchsticks for the rest of the period.

Philomel sat there staring at her notes hoping that this was nothing like charms for a moment, then raised her wand. An incantation later the match is silver. Another incantation and it's looking a bit pointy. A third incantation and the match is now a full fledged needle. Philomel has just earned 10 points to Ravenclaw for being the first to achieve the transfiguration.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

History of Magic, in Philomel's opinion, was her favorite class so far. For the other students in the class, it was the worst, up to and including Potions.

Professor Binns had floated through the chalk board as per usual, and begun lecturing on Goblin revolutions when Philomel raises her hand.

"Yes, miss…?"

"Harry Potter, sir. I don't mean to be rude or anything, but shouldn't you start off with British magical history?"

"Right you are, Miss Porter. I just can't seem to remember my classes, anymore…"

"It's Harry Potter, sir. I am a boy."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The next day was a disaster for Philomel.

Not only did she fail to levitate the feather, even with Hermione's help, but she _did_ manage to levitate Professor Flitwick out the window on accident.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was a little better than Charms, but it failed utterly to hold Philomel's attention and she spent the period thinking that it would be better to just learn the Dark Arts because, as Philomel thought near the end of class, 'At least they sound interesting.'

Herbology was not as bad as the rest of the day, seeing as Philomel had had experience with plants. However, these plants were vastly different from the plants that she normally had contact with. Overall, the class was interesting and quite dangerous to Philomel whenever she got complacent.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

And so the rest of the weeks that followed. The first mention of the philosopher's stone Philomel got was actually in History of Magic, Philomel, once again, the only one bothering to pay full and complete attention.

Professor Binns was lecturing on the various attempts of muggles—or, as he called them, non-adepts at control of inherent magical power—to produce magic or a magical product.

"The most notable, and the longest, attempt of various non-adepts to produce a magical product was the Philosopher's Stone, made by Nicholas Flamel in conjunction with Albus Dumbledore, the esteemed Transfiguration Professor."

Philomel wrote this off as interesting and thought nothing more of it.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

At the Halloween feast, with Philomel enjoying her first celebration of the holiday and quietly toasting to Samhain1, instead of the traditional English holiday. At somewhere around the usual curfew, Professor Quirrel burst in through the doors of the Great Hall.

"Troll! Troll, in the dungeons! Thought you ought to know…" The man faints forward after his message is delivered. Philomel rolls her eyes.

'Idiot, people don't faint forwards. Just shout out that you're up to something.'

Meanwhile, mass hysteria ensues until Dumbledore lets off a shot with his wand.

"QUIET! Prefects, please take the students to their dorm rooms. Food will be sent to you there."

Philomel starts and her head swings over to the Slytherin table. "Mr. Malfoy! Malfoy! _Draco!_" she hisses until she has his attention. "Tell your prefect not to obey."

One of Draco's eyebrows rise at this strange request. "I hope you know, Harry, that that could spell trouble for my House."

"And it could spell even more trouble for the Slytherins if the troll is in the dungeons."

Draco's eyes widen as he understands and he races after his prefect. Minutes later, the Slytherin house files back into the Great Hall, earning a frown of consternation from Dumbledore, unnoticed by anyone. Philomel smiles slightly and leans over to whisper to Sirrush.

/_Sirrush, see the man lying on the floor? Latch onto his cloak and see where he is going then find me. /_ Sirrush quickly rears up.

_/Yesss, Missstresss. /_

Philomel gets up and follows her prefect to the Ravenclaw dorms.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

An hour later, Sirrush returns to Philomel.

_/Missstresss, the man went sssomewhere, like you thought. Your guardian came before the man got passst the thriccce-dog. I can lead you there if you want, Missstresss. /_

Philomel nods her head. _/Yes, Sirrush, I would like that. I hope this venture will be profitable, were you waiting long? /_

_/No, Missstresss. One of the sssnake-emblemsss sssplassshed the man with water and told him to make himssself ussseful. I wasss __drenched__. The man left the Hall and went to the thriccce-dog place. After your guardian came and took away the man, I ssstayed and tried to reassson with the thriccce-dog. It told me that it'sss massster put it there to protect sssomething. It doesss not know what. /_

Philomel tilts her head inquisitively to the side at this new revelation. _/Oh? Did you try and find out what it is? /_

_/Yesss, Missstresss. There were many traps and I could only get passst a few of them. One had many vinesss. Another had moving playing piecccesss. Another had flying keysss. The lassst one I could get to had a large troll. Missstresss, pleassse wait awhile to go through. You will need help. /_ Sirrush winds her way around Philomel's delicate, currently masculine, fingers.

_/Okay, Sirrush. I will wait for winter's break. I still need to tell Hermione…/_ Philomel shakes her head and pats Sirrush before moving on to preen the snake's wings.

On the bed, next to Philomel, is a paper that Philomel had been staring at until Sirrush came. Philomel finally decides what she is going to do and carefully pulls the curtains to her bed together, before taking off the raven necklace. Picking up the quill with her left hand, she begins the letter with a flourish:

'**Gringotts manager,**

'**I am Philomel Faye Potter, and I am writing on behalf of my cousin, Harry Potter. We would like a full assessment of our assets and an examination to make sure that no fraud has been committed. We are ****not****, of course, accusing your prestigious bank of such behavior, but other, more unscrupulous peoples would most certainly stoop to it. In any case, it is just a precaution, as our assets have been collecting interest, I assume it has, for, at the very least, eleven years.**

'**Also, if you could send me a list of ways to obtain a new key, it seems that Harry's parents key was taken by Dumbledore, as was my parents'. If at all possible, is there a way to change the locks? You can never be too careful when dealing with money, as Creon said in 'Antigone', 'Crookedness of all kinds, and all for money!'**

'**May gold always flow for you and yours,**

**Philomel Faye Potter.'**

The last line was just finished as the curtains were pulled open and Hermione was talking, "…Harry, I just wanted to see if you were okay; your snake was missing when we came in…Harry?"

Philomel looks up and mutters, "Damn."

"I knew it!"

**:::**

_**We were just reading Antigone in class and the quote from it in the letter just felt right. I needed the time skip because they really don't do anything in the in between weeks. Notice the classes I emphasized that Philomel is good at are not the ones Harry is. I will be doing more with the Dark Arts in another one of this series of stories. Sirrush will have a major part when they are going to get the philosophers stone. It will be earlier than normal because Philomel does not have to piece together the clues; in fact she doesn't even care what's down there, so long as it helps her. This will also mean that everything will be sped up. Quirrel has to be down there as well, doesn't he? Up next chapter, Flying lessons and Christmas break. As always, I welcome all reviews and critiques and even flames. Flames keep me warm as Florida freezes over and sinks into the sea.**_

_**1) Pronounced Suh-OW-in. This is a Wiccan holiday with pagan roots in Celtic celebrations. I thought it would be more appropriate for the wizarding world to be celebrating.**_


	9. Learning in Christmas cheer

_**Sarika: You're doing better.**_

_**Memories: (cries) I'm dying of overwork! I hate chemistry and geometry and A.P.!**_

_**Sarika: Well, who's the idiot who signed up for them, hmm? Do the disclaimer, Memories. Don't make me get Poe.**_

_**Memories: I own a ton of raggedy books that have been through every hell and back. Oh, and let's not forget Michele. If you try to steal them, I'll sic Sarika on you.**_

_**Sarika: What am I? Some sort of dog?**_

"_Spell__."_

"Speech."

_/Parseltounge. /_

'Thoughts.'

_**(Author Notes)**_

"_**Another language**__**"**_

'**Writings'**

:::

"How could you not tell me, Philomel?! We've been friends for awhile now, and I almost figured it out." shrilled Hermione. Philomel winces.

"Come on in. And can you put up a silencing charm? You know how horrible I am at charms." Hermione clambers onto Philomel's bed and waves her wand saying the spell. "I kind of was hoping you wouldn't find out, Hermione. Everything that tipped you off was true. I'm sorry, it's just, I didn't know how people would react. Did you know that the wizarding world was once a matriarchal society? Until Merlin came and made it reflect the patriarchal non-adept society. That's what Morgan le Fay was really fighting against; Merlin's policies."

Hermione smiles. "Do you always babble about history when you're nervous?"

Philomel bites her lip then immediately let's go of it. "No. Sometimes it's other things. But usually not out loud." Philomel slides a hand under her pillow and takes out her 'Dune' book and nervously pets it.

Hermione gasps in recognition, "I remember you buying that book! Is that your favorite book?"

Philomel blushes and nods. "I feel safer when I'm reading it. Like the characters are going to protect me from life's ills."

Hermione nods sympathetically. "I used to pretend I was in the book and all my favorite characters were my friends. It was better than having no friends at all."

Philomel hugs the book to her chest insecurely. "You mean you don't anymore?"

It's Hermione's turn to blush now. "Well, sometimes, yes. But now I have friends like you and Michele. Ever since Professor McGonagall gave him that detention, he's much easier to be around."

Philomel just stares, one thought running through her mind, 'We're friends? I have friends?'

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The next morning, Philomel gets up early and sneaks into the bathroom to perform the charms on her hair again. As soon as she is through, the raven necklace returns to her neck and the letter to Gringotts goes into her robe's pocket.

Philomel trots down the stairs and whispers the new password, "Alighieri." The, by now, familiar, swirling of dust and magic dumps Philomel into classroom. She leaves the room, the dust-guardian's eyes staring after her.

Philomel travels up the stairway to the Owlery, intent on delivering her letter. Once there, she remembers her own nightingale. Looking around, Philomel finds the ordinary looking bird quickly. Sirrush looks at it sleepily. The bird looks back and trills.

_/Missstresss, it sssaysss it'sss name isss Ssselah. And that it'sss yoursss now, becaussse the other onesss don't want it. /_

Selah hops onto Philomel's outstretched hand and gives it a little nip. Philomel pets her gently on the head. "Hello, Selah. Can you carry a letter for me?"

The bird sings her consent with the beauty her species is known for. Philomel ties the letter around one of Selah's legs and tells her, "To Gringotts Manager, please. Wait for a reply."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The week passes without incident, until Saturday. That morning, at breakfast, Selah dropped off a package for Philomel and flew off for the Owlery. Philomel put it into her robes to open after the Ravenclaws have flying lessons for the first time with the Gryffindors.

Once outside, everybody chooses their brooms. Philomel chooses one of the oldest brooms there, but it is still in good condition; obviously not one of the more popular ones. Hermione sets up next to Philomel. Oddly enough, Ron Weasley goes to the other side of Philomel and begins talking to her.

"Hi Harry, remember me? We met on the train."

Philomel looks at him apathetically. "I remember you, Mr. Weasley."

Ron smiles and says, "You've probably had enough time to realize that Malfoy is bad news, so I've come to offer my friendship again."

Hermione, who'd been listening, snaps at him, "Draco Malfoy has been nothing but polite to us. Harry has told me the conditions of your conversation on the train and, right now, Malfoy seems the better choice."

Ron frowns at her and returns, "Keep out of Harry's conversations with his friends, Know-it-all."

Hermione gasps in outrage but Philomel just looks on into the horizon. "If you are going to insult my friends, Mr. Weasley, when I told you how I feel about that before; I suggest that you and I do not renew what connections we had." Ron has no time to react before Madame Hooch begins the lesson.

"Alright, everyone's chosen a broom, good. Now, everyone stand next to their brooms with their wand hand stretched over it. Now, everyone say 'Up' with feeling." Of the chorus of "Up!"s, Philomel's broom was the only one to do so on the first try. Albeit, it was slow and stately rising, but Philomel thought she preferred that to the way Hermione's broom slapped into her hand on the second try.

Madame Hooch was staring at Philomel oddly and almost failed to notice it when everyone's broom was in their hands. Clearing her throat embarrassedly, Madame Hooch instructs, "Grip your broom with both hands and swing your leg over the handle."

Philomel tries it, and wrinkles her nose at the position. She maneuvers into a sidesaddle position adapted to a broom and sighs in relief. Madame Hooch's eyes nearly bug out when she lays eyes on Philomel, but she does not go over there to correct her; though the other students are staring at Philomel, dumbfounded.

"On my count of three, I want you to push off from the ground, just a light tap will do. One—two—" A boy Philomel remembers getting hostile looks every day at breakfast pushes off too hard and early. He shoots up into the air, extremely out of control. Philomel weighs the risks against the possible rewards, then kicks off and goes after him; ignoring Madame Hooch's yells.

Once Philomel is up in the air, she feels as if nothing bad can happen to her. Philomel guides her broom next to the boy, lying almost completely down on it. "Mr. Longbottom! Control your fear! Don't move."

When the Neville has calmed down and stopped moving around on the broom in a panic, the broom itself settles down. Philomel talks Neville back down to the ground, with no harm come to either. Madame Hooch fusses over the both of them then dismisses the class, "That's enough excitement today, go back to your weekends."

Once everyone is gone, Neville thanks Philomel in a stammering voice and flees. Madame Hooch pulls Philomel to the side.

"I won't have you expelled for what you did, it was really quite brave, but, you do realize that your seating technique on a broom is archaic and normally used for women; correct?"

Philomel bites her lip. "I did not realize, Madame Hooch. I just did not feel comfortable the other way. I'll try again next time."

Madame Hooch shakes her head vigorously. "No, if you don't feel comfortable, then you're likely to fall off. I don't think that you will need another flying lesson; you must have inherited flying skills from your father along with your looks. If you weren't in first year, I'd recommend you for the Seeking position on the Ravenclaw House team. I suggest you think about trying out next year."

Philomel nods like she actually knows what Madame Hooch is talking about and the flying instructor lets her leave.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

In the History of Magic classroom, Professor Binns was grading essays he'd assigned on various non-adepts attempts at magic throughout the medieval and Renaissance period of British history and found half of them to be on the Goblin Revolution, written by older students. Most of the remaining half had little to do with non-adepts attempts at magic.

Professor Binns made the floating quill draw large, red 'F's on the Goblin Revolution essays, and a large 'D's on the remaining ones; except for one.

"Ah, yes, Miss Potter. I see she still insists on using a males name for herself. But this is excellent. Best essay I've seen since that infernal fire. And a perfect topic, too. Let's see: 'Non-adepts trying to use alchemy since the ancient times; tried to produce a Philosopher's Stone; eventually gave up and changed alchemy to chemistry.' Then she goes into detail about the Philosopher's Stone and the modern-day products of chemistry that could improve magical life like the Stone has. Yes, excellent. A very good thing she does not know what Dumbledore is hiding in this school. It could be very bad for her."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"Kestrel, I'm sure I don't know what you are on about. Harry is most certainly a boy."

Madame Hooch rolls her amber eyes and paces, running a calloused hand through spiky, short, grey hair. "Albus, everything about the way Mr. Potter handled his broom screamed female; and a prim and proper one at that. That just does not happen to boys. No matter if they are special, no matter if they are homosexual. With this sort of thing, magic has an extreme gender bias!"

Dumbledore looks gravely over his glasses at the teacher. "Kestrel, I'm sure magic has no such thing as gender biases."

Madame Hooch lets out a rattling laugh and sends a piercing gaze at Dumbledore, "Then you have not studied magic in depth. There is a reason why I was the Magical Roots Theories Professor at the European Magical University before it was disbanded. Just from watching a person handle a broom for the first time, you can gauge power levels, suitable professions, personality, gender, and, most importantly, magical type. You know all of this, Albus; by the Gods, I've said it enough times."

Albus lets out a short chuckle. "Yes, so you have. But I'm afraid that the information you have stumbled upon is highly classified. You'll have to forget it right away, my dear Kestrel. _Obliviate!_ Now, Kestrel, I do believe you were just leaving?"

Madame Hooch nods dumbly, eyes hooded. As soon as she is out of the office and well on her way to the teacher's quarters, Madame Hooch slumps against the wall and whispers, while rubbing a platinum wedding band, "Thank you, Astor. You're always good at guessing what I need, before I need it."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Winter break could not come fast enough for Philomel and her friends. When it did come, few of the Ravenclaws were staying at Hogwarts for what promised to be an absolutely freezing winter. In fact, out of all of them, only Philomel, Hermione, Michele, and five upperclassmen preparing for their OWLs and NEWTs. Of Slytherin, even fewer. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had a total of thirty-five together.

Philomel had decided long before to venture into the mysterious hallway during winter break, but sensed that it was not the right time yet. So, on Christmas morning, not expecting any gifts, Philomel sat in bed with her necklace off and Sirrush warming up in the small of Philomel's back rereading her bank report. Halfway through the listing of her properties as they should be and as they are, 'highly irregular discrepancies, will be rectified right away', Hermione throws open the curtains.

"Philomel, what are doing reviewing that when you should be downstairs, opening your gifts!"

Philomel sighs. "Hermione, close that before one of the upperclassmen comes in and sees me." she says, not looking up.

Hermione snorts. "You're almost as bad as them! They just told Michele to take care of us because they finished unwrapping their presents and were going to go study in the library! They won't notice and they've all pulled so many all-nighters that if they do, they'll think it's from lack of sleep. Irresponsible! I, myself, would never do that over Christmas; of all holidays!"

Philomel clears her throat. "Hermione, did you come up here to rant at me?"

Hermione snaps back to reality mid-rant. "No. You're coming down with me to open your presents with me and Michele. And you will not come back up here until it's time to go to bed." Before Philomel can protest, Hermione pulls her out of the bed and down the stairs.

In the common room, one haggard-looking prefect is talking to Michele and looks up when Hermione comes barreling down the stairs, Philomel in tow. As soon as the prefect sees Philomel, she rubs her eyes and mutters, "I really need to get some sleep. I'm going insane…" Then she goes up her stairs, probably to get some sleep.

Michele smiles at the two girls. "Ah, snow and two beautiful girls to cuddle with me by the roaring fire. It could be no more perfect."

Philomel blushes. Hermione deadpans, "Pervert. We're too young to be thinking of things like that."

Michele does not stop smiling. "And yet, we are. Amazing, is it not?"

Now Hermione blushes. "Let's just open the presents, shall we?"

The three separate their presents and each choose a present to open first, Hermione's and Michele's was from Philomel, and Philomel's was from Hermione.

Hermione opened hers first and nearly deafened them with her squeal of pleasure. "'A Parallel Between the Muggle Parliamentarian Democracy and the Ministry of Magic'! I've wanted to read this ever since I finished 'The Muggleborn's Guide to the Ministry of Magic'."

Then Michele opened his 'Foreign Words in English and How to Make People Think You Can Speak the Language.' and smiled evilly.

Philomel opened hers slowly, savoring her first gift. "Oh, wow, 'The Self-Updating Guide to Potions' as well as, 'The Self-Updating Guide to Transfiguration'. Both published by their respective guilds. How did you know?"

The rest of Philomel's gifts were rather mundane, made special by the fact that they were her first: a sandworm plushy from Michele, a set of silver stress balls from Severus for his goddaughter, a specialty self-inking black quill from Draco, a fifty pence piece from the Dursleys, and a box of sugar quills from the Romanis. Except for one that they nearly missed.

"Philomel, you missed one." sang Hermione, reading one of her new books. Philomel pulls out the luridly coloured package, wondering vaguely how she could have missed something so bright.

"Are you not going to open it, or will you stare at it until it opens itself, Philomel?" asked Michele, sucking on a chocolate frog.

Philomel scowls at him and opens it. A river of velvety grey alternating with invisibility elicits a gasp from all three.

"An Invisibility Cloak. Incredibly rare." Michele breaths.

"Put it on, Philomel!"

Philomel swings it around her shoulder and disappears. Sirrush immediately begins flicking her tongue out to find her.

_/Missstresss, where did you go? Don't leave me! /_

Philomel gives a little hissing laugh, _/I have not left, you just can't see me. /_

Michele and Hermione start a little at the Parseltounge, but Michele teases, "A morning of rarities all tied to one lovely lady who masquerades as a boy. Surely my heart cannot stand another shock!"

Hermione picks up a scrap of paper that fell on the floor when Philomel swung the Cloak.

"Philomel, read this note. It came with the Cloak."

"'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.' That was certainly helpful, now we know exactly who gave it to me." She rolled her eyes.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

That night, at the Christmas dinner, was a feast without equal in Philomel's eyes. Her favorite part was most undoubtedly the succulent roasts and delectable roasted potatoes. She even partook of the customary Yule Log, despite her distaste for overtly sweet things that were not pure sugar.

At the end, when all of the food was gone and people were just pulling the wizard crackers and enjoying the company of others, an owl swooped in and landed next to Dumbledore. The headmaster read the letter it brought and frowned. He waved the owl away and stood.

"My dear friends, it seems that I am needed at the Ministry of Magic. I trust that the festivities can continue on without me? I shall no doubt be back by tomorrow's dinner." Dumbledore sweeps out of the Hall to the grand applause of the rather drunken Hagrid.

Philomel's eyes widen. 'Now, now is our chance. And, if I'm right, Quirrel will also go after whatever is down there.'

:::

_**This chapter I tried something new. Philomel's Lullaby is going by faster now, and slipping slowly into the world of AU. I may, key word there is **__**may**__**, go into more about magical roots. If anyone really wants to know what Philomel's meant, just review and I will give you a brief oversight. Next chappie: Philomel goes after the Stone. People, review, please, or flame! It's freezing down here, at least it is for a Florida girl born and bred.**_


	10. down the rabbit hole and thru the woods

_**Memories: Haha, sorry it took me so long to update. **__**There was just the question of what I should write for some of the scenes. I'm sooooo happy, though. It's my longest chapter! My mom's pies to whoever reviews (they are the best I swear).**_

_**Sarika: Aren't you going to welcome me back?**_

_**Memories: No. You **__**ditched**__** me for the tropics! Right in the middle of a chapter!**_

_**Sarika: Memories owns nothing.**_

"_Spell__."_

"Speech."

_/Parseltounge. /_

'Thoughts.'

_**(Author Notes)**_

"_**Another language"**_

:::

Philomel stalked out of the Great Hall, barely noticing when Michele and Hermione sidled up beside her.

"Harry, where are we going?"

Philomel glances at Hermione and half-smiles. "We're going to find out what the Third Floor Corridor is guarding. And if we're going to make that Cloak useful, what better time than now?"

Michele grins mischievously. "This'll be fun. Any idea what we will face?"

Philomel is silent all the way to her bed. After she fishes the Invisibility Cloak out she replies, "Do either of you know how to play chess?"

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The trio wrap the cloak around themselves, well out of sight of the dust-guardian. Philomel whispers to Sirrush, _/Sirrush, time for you to show me the way to where the man went. /_

_/Missstresss, Sssirrusssh will ssshow you the way. Follow me. /_ Sirrush slithers out from under the Cloak and slides along the corridors, with Philomel, Hermione, and Michele following along behind.

It takes nearly half an hour for them to get to the forbidden hallway; which, though covered with a thick layer of dust, still held the footprints of the previous trespassers. To Philomel's relief, none of them were particularly fresh, indicating that they were the first ones there. Michele pulls off the Invisibility Cloak and looks around.

"Lovely," he says, wrinkling his nose at the dust, "A regular party central."

Philomel flips some stray strands of hair from her face and follows Sirrush to the door, behind which a faint snarling can be heard. She creaks open the door cautiously.

Philomel's caution was rewarded when the Cerberus tried to chew off her hand. Sirrush hisses furiously at the dog and it whimpers and crawls over to Philomel.

Philomel stares at it for a moment before scratching it behind all six ears. "I'm going to call you Ares. You're a good dog, aren't you, Ares, aren't you?" Ares' tail thumping against the ground nearly deafens the group. Sirrush winds her way up to Philomel's shoulder.

_/Missstresss, the thriccce-dog isss happy to reccceive hisss new name. Apparently, the thriccce-dog wasss called "Fluffy" before. Alssso, Aresss will allow you and your two companionsss to passs, but no one elssse. /_

_/Good. Can you ask him to move? /_

A few hisses later and Ares is in a corner. Michele and Hermione are looking a little weirded out. Philomel looks at the trapdoor helplessly. "Can someone help me move this thing?"

That breaks the silence and the two help move the heavy door by levitating charms.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The three look into the gloomy portal with apprehension.

"Who wants to go first?" asks Hermione, her attempt at flippancy failing miserably. Michele looks a little pale and Philomel is trying not to get to close to the edge. Hermione sighs and decides to do something.

"I'm sorry." is the only warning Michele and Philomel get before Hermione pushes them in. They land with a thump, followed by Hermione seconds later.

All three of them can feel the sinuous vines curl around them. Philomel and Hermione whisper at the same time, "Don't move, it's the Devil's Snare." The potentially lethal plant whorls around them and they are swallowed into the lattice of vines. Before anyone panics, they are deposited on the cold, hard, stone floor.

"Divine, we'll have matching bruises." snarks Michele. Hermione shoots him a glare and Philomel gets up to inspect the door.

After a moment, Philomel waves Michele and Hermione over before pulling open the thick oak door. Inside, a lovely sight of glittering, flying keys greets the trio. Hermione crosses the room to look at the door.

"_Alohomora_." When the lock didn't open, Hermione glanced up at the keys then studied the lock. "It appears we need to find the key. It'll be large, old-fashioned, and possibly silver, just like the handle. There's a broom over there."

They all look at the rickety broom that was left them. Upon the sight of it, Michele declares, "There is no way I'm getting on that thing!"

Philomel looks at it with trepidation as well. "I think I should stay down here. Just in case."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Cowards. Sending a girl to do all your work." she teases. Philomel primly pulls on her own extraordinarily long hair. Hermione ignores the gesture and swings her leg over broom. She was just getting settled when the keys attacked. Hermione grimaced and, shielding her face, she took off. Within minutes, and many cuts later, she'd grasped the correct key. First, Hermione broke the wings then threw the key at Philomel before flying in the opposite direction to lure the others away. Philomel hurriedly opens the door and Michele holds it open for Hermione to fly through. Together the three slam the door shut.

"Well, that was certainly interesting." Michele deadpans. Hermione shoots him a look that clearly says it wasn't interesting enough for him but she could make it so.

Philomel ignores them and points to the next obstacle. "It's about to get a whole lot more interesting. Does anyone know how to play chess?"

Hermione follows her finger and blanches. "You asked that before. The answer is no."

Michele shakes his head. Philomel sighs. The chess pieces continue to look menacing. Michele suddenly has an idea. "You're good at Transfiguration, Philomel. Try to transfigure the white pieces smaller."

Philomel's forehead crinkles in thought and she bites her lip. "I'm not sure how long I can hold it, but I should be able to force raw power to my will. It won't be elegant or long-lasting, just to warn you…"

Hermione bravely makes her way to the board, ready to make a dash for it. Michele and Philomel are not far behind.

Philomel takes out both her wands and begins to chant, "Shrink, shrink, shrink…" wands pointed at the white chess pieces. The playing pieces gradually decrease in size. Hermione and Michele pull Philomel past the significantly smaller chess pieces and through the door once they are no threat. Philomel lies against the door, panting from the exertion of doing magic like that. A disgusting smell jerks the trio from their rest.

"A troll?" Hermione's eye twitches. "This has to Quirrel's doing. I suppose we know who let the troll in, Halloween."

Philomel glares at it as the stupid creature raises its club against them. _"__WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!__"_

The troll flies up into the air and lands on the ground with a sickening thud, accompanied by a crack. Grey blood leaks from where it landed. The three stare at it.

"Nice job, Philomel. You got a charm right."

Philomel switches her glare to Michele. "I just wanted to levitate the club away, Michele."

They sit for awhile longer before Philomel leads them across the chamber to another door. Behind this one, lies a complicated seeming set of riddles; one historical, obviously set by Binns with help, and the other potions related, obviously Professor Snape.

"Let's start with Professor Binns' riddle; there doesn't seem to be any malevolent consequences to getting it wrong." Hermione suggests.

Philomel recites the conundrum:

"_Listen here, all students of ancient times_

_The item you seek is quite near._

_Though you may travel through time and space and never find,_

_The holy grail of primeval chemistry;_

_Beyond the fires of hell may it lie,_

_Wrapped within the liquid-mirror confines of desire._

_Seek and you shall find that which gave birth to chemistry,_

_Furthered the delicate art of potions,_

_Gave life eternal where death once lay,_

_And produces gold enough to flood the world in its depths._

_Oh, but seeker, beware, beware,_

_This stone of blood is made of the lives of men."__1_

She gasps in shocked recognition, "The Philosopher's stone! What kind of simpleton puts a _Philosopher's Stone_ in a bloody school!"

Michele and Hermione look at Philomel like she's insane. "Do you know what it's talking about, Philomel?" Hermione asks gently, like a loud noise might spook Philomel.

Philomel glares at her. "Didn't you listen to Professor Binns when he was talking about British magical history? The Philosopher's Stone was made by Nicolas Flamel and Albus Dumbledore.2 What not many people know, and it's not taught until much later, is that there was a massacre of a Dark Lord's forces, one that was around long before Grindlewald, which Flamel and Dumbledore then used the sacrifice to produce the only Philosopher's stone ever to be made. I'm guessing that had we done Professor Snape's first, there would have been fire in the entrance. There is most likely a mirror of Erised being used as the final guard. I don't suppose that anyone else understands what I'm saying, do they?" That speech was met with shaking of heads in both confusion and negation.

Philomel nods sadly. "I thought so. Come on, we can't read the other one; just in case."

She allows Hermione and Michele to go ahead of herself, then Philomel looks around nervously before following.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"What's so special about this room? There's just a mirror." observes Michele.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Excellent observation, Michele. Why, without you, we'd never have seen an eight foot mirror in the middle of a barren room."

Philomel points to the inscription on the top of the mirror.

'**Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.'**

"It's just gibberish, Philomel. Even Michele could see that." Hermione rolls her eyes.

"It's not though. Use that excellent mind of yours creatively and think."

Brown eyes are scrunched up in thought before the light of understanding brightens in them. "Oh, it's not gibberish, it's backwards!"

Philomel nods. "_'I show not your face but your hearts desire.'_ Just step in front of it and you'll see what you truly want, though it may not come true. It's very dangerous and one of the last of its kind. The magic used to create something like this used to be used to capture thieves," Philomel sighed longingly. "The complex web of magic took _days_, bordering on months, to knit; it took a master dream weaver to make and it nearly always depleted them to the point of near death. Think of what the Sistine chapel did to Michelangelo; his finest work drove him nearly blind. You can stand in front of one of these forever, lost in your deepest, darkest longings; yearning for what can never happen."3

Hermione shyly steps away from the mirror. Michele merely stays well away from the center of the room. Philomel, however, steps confidently in front of the silvery-reflector.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

At first, all she sees is black, as inky as the night and as unfathomable as death. Then, her image comes into focus; pale, alabaster skin with dark tendrils curling on a cheek and acid eyes closed in sleep.

She seems to be curled against someone, for hands paler than her own are grasping her waist possessively. All there is to identify the person is a silver ring in the shape of a scythe around the left middle finger.4

Slowly, after an eternity, one bright as a death curse eye opens to fix on Philomel. Lips curl into a mocking smile and Philomel sees a blood red stone in the hands of the stranger. The stone is slipped into a pocket of the image's that Philomel did not notice before. A strange sudden weight slides into her own pocket. The reflection of Philomel's desire was interrupted by a sudden whoosh of flame from behind.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"Quirrel's come then. The idiot didn't even manage to get past Professor Snape's riddle." Philomel scorns.

The other two look surprised. Hermione exclaims, "Professor Quirrel! I thought it was Professor Snape."

Philomel rolls her eyes. "No, of course not. You met him at Diagon Alley; he would never do something to endanger his students. You didn't really think that, did you, now?"

Hermione looks sheepish. "My parents always tell me that the—the reason I'd only a few friends was that no one could see past my appearance. I suppose I fell victim to the same mind-set as they did."

Philomel waves away the unspoken apology with an elegant hand. "Well, now you know. But, I would suggest that the two of you hide in the shadows. Quirrel will most likely not expect more than one here. Though he'll be in for a surprise."

Michele nods and grabs Hermione's hand just as she is about to protest, and drags her to a corner at the front of the room and holds a hand over her mouth. The flames belly out and Quirrel barrels on through.

His turban is askew and singed, obvious signs that he did not get the riddle right, and his face was strangely twitch-free. Pale eyes flicked across the room, conveniently missing the two in his blind-spots.

"You! Girl! What are you doing here? Nobody's supposed to be down here." Quirrel says in a strong voice. Philomel stands there, perfectly polite.

"I would have thought that t'would be apparent, Professor. I'm obviously here to either help or hinder you in your quest for the Philosopher's Stone. Or simply observe you. But, of course, there is always someone watching anywhere we go."

Quirrel remains suspicious of Philomel. "You can't be sent by my master. And no one else would want to watch me."

A flicker of a haughty smile graces Philomel's features for a brief moment. "Perhaps, perhaps not. You could be underestimating your value. You could also be right about me being a loyal courtier of the Dark Lord. You never know."

Quirrel scrutinizes Philomel. "You do not look like any of my master's followers' fool children."

Philomel tilts her head back proudly. "Magic can do wonders."

A chilling voice emanates from the back of Quirrel's head, "The wench is lying. I did not send her and nor is she one of my Death Eaters' spawn. Kill the bitch."

Philomel's face doesn't falter. "Ah, ah, ah. You might just want to ask yourself, or the person on the back of your head: 'How long has she been here?' 'Is it possible that she has back up somewhere?' 'Can I maybe be as dimwitted as I look?'"

Quirrel looks enraged and raises his wand, but the chilly voice commands, "Stop you fool, perhaps she has the stone. Let me see her."

"But, master, you're not strong enough…"

"YOU WILL DO AS I SAY!"

Quirrel, needless to say, quickly removes his lopsided turban. Seated firmly in the back of his bald head is a snake-like visage.

"So, girl, you try to pass yourself off as a Death Eater child or a servant of mine. You must be a Slytherin, to lie so convincingly. Tell me your name."

Philomel looks not in the least perturbed. "My name is Philomel Faye Potter, daughter of James and Lily Potter. I am a Ravenclaw and currently failing your miserable lackey's class because it's so damn boring. I do believe that you are the Dark Lord Voldemort, scourge of the wizarding world. You tried, and failed wretchedly, to kill me once before, I believe."

Voldemort seems a bit speechless. Quirrel sputters indignantly.

Philomel signals to Michele and Hermione. "And now, if this works, gentlemen, I'll be leaving here and you won't." Philomel begins singing under her breath:

"_Philomel, with melody,_

_Sing in our sweet melody;_

_Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby,_

_Never harm,_

_Nor spell, nor charm,_

_Come our lovely lady nigh,_

_So, good night, with Lullaby."_

Philomel continues chanting the half-familiar lines and lays her long hands on Quirrel. Burns in the shape of snakes, centipedes, and other creepies steal over Quirrel's body. After only a moment, he crumbles to dust. Voldemort, enraged, speeds into Philomel and through her. Philomel faints, from both exhaustion and an overload of souls on her body, which was not made to house more than one.

\/\'/\/'/\/'\/\

"Philomel, are you awake?"

"I am now. Did I get hit with the frying pan again?"

"WHAT!"

"Nothing, Hermione."

Hermione scowls at Philomel darkly, muttering under her breath. Michele looks a little confused.

"Philomel, not that I'm complaining, but why did you kill our Defense Professor?"

Hermione, just realizing what she witnessed, sways a little on her feet.

Philomel blanches a little. "If I didn't, then we'd've been killed. Also, to keep the Stone from Voldemort's hands, which would not have been facilitated by our deaths. And, finally, I have a right, as the last living Potter, to kill the one that destroyed my family. I will not be held remiss in my duty to my family."

Hermione still looks a little pale, and is short of breath, but she manages to put her fear behind her, for the moment. "How are we supposed to explain that we killed our defense professor?"

Philomel looks dumbfounded. "I hadn't thought of that."

Michele, on the other hand, not in the least perturbed by seeing the death of his professor, is smug. "Well, we can't say that we did it on purpose. Nobody would believe that you had any legitimate reason for doing so. Well, one person will. The problem now is getting that person to believe that you did it on accident and we were nowhere near you when you did so."

Philomel is both horrified and disgusted. "You can't mean Dumbledore, can you?"

"I can and I most certainly do. You'll have to be knocked out again, and Hermione and I will have to go back and somehow get Dumbledore down here; making up a plausible story for why we were down here in the first place."

Hermione speaks up for the first time since Michele started, "It would also be better if no one but we three were to know that all of us were here. So, I suggest that we tell Dumbledore that Michele was knocked out by the Chess pieces, and I could not go along with you through the potions riddle."

Philomel squeezes her eyes shut. "Okay, just take the stone and hide it well. I want to study it when I get older. Hit me as hard as you can."

Michele nods. "I'm sorry, Philomel."

The last thing Philomel saw was darkness.

:::

_**In case anyone recognized the parts of my little History of Magic safeguard, the "lives of men" part was partially stolen from Fullmetal Alchemist. I'm not an avid fan, but I've watched a little. Oh, and we really did try and discover the Philosopher's stone during the Renaissance. Needless to say, we did not succeed. Review, review, review and read my new story, Letter's of Resignation, which has been lengthened from the original three chapters to five.**_

_**An idea borrowed from Full Metal Alchemist. It fit with the way I wanted to portray Dumbledore. This isn't the first stone that Flamel has made, though, it was just the one that was perfected.**_

_**Not quite, how else could the Flamels have stayed alive so long? Though Dumbledore helped perfect it.**_

_**Idea borrowed from the second book of Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic quartet. The spell net made from metal. And if Philomel sounds a little creepy there, it's because she thinks the magic is beautiful; and that giving yourself to your work is the highest calling. So, yeah, she's creepy.**_

_**If you can't guess who the person is, you're not as smart as I think you are. And yes, that does mean what you think it does. She won't be like that for long.**_


	11. We have lifted the Stone, I repeat

_**Thanks to all those that stuck with me. I'm an absolutely horrible updater and I think that I forgot to put up a disclaimer last time. Considering I refuse to be martyred for that, I'll do it twice to make up:**_

_**I do not own Harry Potter**_

_**I do not own Harry Potter**_

_**Now, only five hundred and ninety-eight left to go and it'll be inscribed in my hand. Then, I can't forget it.**_

"_Spell__."_

"Speech."

_/Parseltounge. /_

'Thoughts.'

_**(Author Notes)**_

"_**Another language**__**"**_

'**Writings'**

:::

"Harry, my boy, are you awake?"

Philomel groans as she holds a hand to her head. "Professor, where am I?"

"Hospital wing, my dear boy. That was quite a blow to the head you took."

She opens her eyes tentatively and squints in the light. "Headmaster, what happened down there? Is the Stone safe?"

Dumbledore chuckles softly. "It has been destroyed. I'm sure you tried your best, but there was no sign of it and Quirrel was hardly in a position to take it out."

Philomel gains an alarmed look. "What about your friends? Flamel and his wife?"

Dumbledore smiles secretively. "They have enough Elixir to set their affairs in order and then they will pass on. But to the well-organized mind, death is but the next greatest adventure."

'But you've never died… So, how would you know?'

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"Harry, you're back! I was worried you got hit too hard. The entire school's been talking about what happened in the trapdoor." exclaimed Hermione.

Philomel nodded quietly. "Is it the truth?"

Michele snorts, gaining Madame Pince's ire. "Of course not. What do you take us for? What about Dumbledore?" he says a bit more quietly.

"He believed me. The Stone was destroyed."

Hermione cried out with outrage, causing Madame Pince to glare at them, "After all that hard work!"

Michele looks somber, however. "What about the Flamels?"

Philomel's gaze drops. "They have enough Elixir to put their affairs in order. Then they will die. So, I'm going to send them a letter detailing what happened. Hopefully, they may send me some books on it."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel is sitting in the Ravenclaw common room, in a corner, composing a letter with her left hand, confusing some of the other students who have, up till now, seen her write only with her right.

'**To Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel,**

'**If you have already gotten Dumbledore's letter, I am truly happy to inform you that your ingenious Stone is actually quite safe.**

'**My name is Philomel, and my cousin's friends, Hermione Granger and Michele Romani, and he saved it from the clutches of Voldemort. They had sent it to me for safe-keeping. I had not known that this was your only Philosopher's Stone; otherwise I would not have kept it for so long. I shall keep it in my possession until you send a return owl; as my nightingale could not carry something of that weight to your estate.**

'**Fear not, the Stone will be safe in my hands. I had hoped to be able to study alchemy and the Stone further, but I completely understand if you do not wish me to look at it; however, if you could send some books, or even a list of books if you don't wish to part with your books.**

'**I only hope that this gets to you in time, because, no matter what the well organized mind may think, there is nothing worse than dying. Well, there is, but let's not get into that, shall we?**

'**Yours, sincerely,**

'**Philomel Faye Potter'**

Satisfied with the letter, and sure that, with the potion mixed with the ink and soaked into the parchment, no one will be able to read it except the one it is addressed too, Philomel folds it up and heads off to Owlery to send it.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The next few weeks passed without consequence for Philomel and her friends. Besides a few impromptu snowball fights, an off the cuff swimming lesson for Philomel courtesy of Michele1, and lessons, nothing new really happened.

Dumbledore taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hagrid's house nearly burnt down and he was found to be illegally in the possession of a dragon, and Michele mysteriously was unable to hold forks and spoons without screaming due to an accidental dose of _Phobia Brew_ a week after Philomel was dunked.

Philomel, of course, excelled in everything she put her mind to; but, as the weeks went on, her grades declined due to anxiety about the Flamels and Selah.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Nicolas Flamel was just closing up his lab for the night when a faint tapping on the window drew his attention to the nightingale currently flapping outside. Wondering what it might want, Nicolas opens the window. Selah hops in and holds out the leg with Philomel's letter on it.

The letter is untied with a bit of skepticism, "Who on earth uses a nightingale instead of an owl? Why would they be writing to me?" The first earned Nicolas an angry peck.

After reading it, Nicolas allows a slight smile to grace his face then he takes Selah and finishes locking up before going into the kitchen.

Perenelle, who was preparing dinner, turned when she heard her husband come in. "Nick, you are a minute late. I needed help peeling your beloved _**pommes de terre**_."

Nicolas chuckles and gives her a peck on the cheek. "Ah, but Perry, I had a visitor with a letter. Would you like to read it?" he says, handing her the letter.

Perenelle snatches it with a sniffed, "Do not compare me to that American. Uncouth barbarian2."

After Perenelle finishes the letter, she giggles before adopting a serious look. "Albus did not tell me anything about a Stone being destroyed. _**Toi**_?"

"No, my dear, he did not tell me anything either. It's a good thing that that was the second Stone. Who knows what might have happened if Albus knew we still had the original?"

"_**Vraiment**_."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

During the Easter holiday, quite awhile after Philomel had sent off the letter, a large barn owl swoops in along with the regular post. It lands in front of Michele, just looking like he got a present from his parents. Hermione looks at it curiously.

"Aren't you going to open it, Michele?"

Michele glances at it, then grins. "No, I will wait until later. I do believe we should all open it together."

Philomel, catching a glimpse of Selah darting into the window, nods. "Shall we meet in the common room or the library?"

Hermione scowls at not knowing what's going on but answers, "If we're going to be secret, we might as well go to the library. No one ever thinks about listening in in there."

"Not true, Hermione. Why, I've heard some very interesting things in the library because people don't think anyone will listen. Why, just the other day—"

"Michele, be quiet. No one is interested in hearing about that this moment. So, library it is, unless you have a better suggestion, Michele?"

"No, Harry."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

In the library, a dark corner that was so dusty and filled with spider webs that even Madame Pince avoided it, Philomel and her two friends sat down with the package.

Hermione gingerly brushes off her seat. "Ugh, why hasn't anyone cleaned this?"

Michele sits down, after cleaning up the seat with magic, staring at the books. "It's the tax section."

Philomel just plops down, ignoring all the dust and cobwebs that cling to her robe. "Oh, good, after we look at the package, I can find that tax book I've been needing to look at."

After a little twitch of her eye, Hermione shakes her head and says, "Well, who's going to open it?"

Philomel snaps back to reality and efficiently undoes the package. The brown paper falls away to reveal a box and a letter:

'**My dear Philomel,**

'**It was certainly nice of you to tell us about that incident, but your concern was quite unnecessary. As it turns out, we have the original Stone, so you may keep the one you have. It seems much safer in your possession than Albus'.**

'**Also, there is no fear of us dieing for quite some time, yet. Me and Perry might be older than Albus by centuries but we by no means look it, thank the Goddess!**

'**Now, as to the books, since there is absolutely nothing else for us to do and we are well over five hundred years old, Perry and I, especially Perry, have amassed quite the library. And, as such, we have enclosed about fifty books for your pleasure. Most of them are about beginning Alchemy and higher level potions. One or two are on non-adept chemistry, mainly the elements, and the rest are Histories. If you need anymore reading material, just send your charming bird with a letter. It's such a pleasure to see spaces on the shelves once more.**

'**Nicholas Flamel'**

The rest of the letter read:

'_**Ma petite**_**,**

'**It is such a surprise to get letters from people other than Albus. **_**S'il-te-plait**_**, don't hesitate to send more. Tell your **_**cousin et ses amis**_** that we appreciate their hard-work, though it was not needed for our benefit.**

'**Nicholas and **_**moi**_**, we are happy to give you any **_**livres**_** you need.**

'_**Ciao, ma petite**_**,**

'**Perenelle Flamel'**

Philomel passes the letter around while she opens the box. Inside are quite a bit more than fifty shrunken books set neatly into the box like a jigsaw. Carved into the lid are instructions from Perenelle:

'**Now, **_**ma petite**_**, all you need to do to restore the **_**livres**_** to their original size is take **_**ils**_** out. When you are done, put **_**ils**_** back, they will shrink to fit. The box is charmed against invasion and detection by anyone other than you.'**

Hermione was looking at the box with confusion, as was Michele. It was Hermione who voiced what they were both thinking, "Harry, where did all those books come from?"

Philomel looks confused, "They're in a box. Can't you see it?"

Michele shakes his head. "No, we can't, anymore. One second it was there, and then it was gone. How can you?"

"Oh, so, it really is just me that see the box…"

:::

_**I know that this is really short. Really, really short. And well, that last line won't be explained for quite awhile. I've included a list of all the French words.**_

_**Ma petite- feminine "my little one"**_

_**Livres- plural "books"**_

_**Ils- plural masculine "them"**_

_**Ciao- bye**_

_**Moi- me**_

_**Cousin et ses amis- "Cousin and his friends" masculine**_

_**S'il-te-plait- informal "thank you"**_

_**Vraiment- true**_

_**Toi- "you" informal**_

_**Pommes de terre- literally, "apples of earth", taken together, "potatoes"**_

_**He pushed her into the lake.**_

_**Let's see how many of you know what I'm talking about.**_


	12. An End and a Beginning

_**This top part will be quite short, as I have a very long author's note at the bottom.**_

_**I do not own Harry Potter, no matter what I wish.**_

"_Spell__."_

"Speech."

_/Parseltounge. /_

'Thoughts.'

_**(Author Notes)**_

"_**Another language**__**"**_

:::

The end of the year feast was as grand as the beginning one.

Of course, there was a change in decorations; namely the Slytherin house emblem was draped from anything and everything except the Gryffindors, who were definitely put out.

Philomel was determinedly ignoring all the attempts to engage her in conversation and trying to listen to Dumbledore's speech. Finally, Dumbledore called for silence.

"If I may have your attention please, I wish to announce that another year is gone! And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were…you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

Philomel clapped politely as the Slytherins cheered. She gave a slight smile when Draco looked her way.

Dumbledore's beard flickered down, but he continues talking, "Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin. However, some events must be taken into account."

The cheering died a quick death.

"Ahem, I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

"First—to Mr. Romani, for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in quite a few years, I award Ravenclaw House fifty points."

The whispers start up at the Ravenclaw table, where it is widely known that Michele can't play chess to save his life.

"Second—to Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Ravenclaw House fifty points."

Hermione's face burns and she buries her head in her arms. The whispering jumps up.

Dumbledore, blissfully unaware of the negative affect his words are having, continues, "Third—to Mr. Harry Potter…for pure nerve and outstanding courage worthy of a Gryffindor, I award Ravenclaw House sixty points."

Outrage breaks the dead silence along both the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. Philomel could be seen conferring with Hermione and Michele, then the Ravenclaw prefects.

The teachers are just as shocked and Severus looks paler than normal. Vector is sputtering, her brown hair in even more disarray than usual. McGonagall is displeased, her thin lips nonexistent.

Dumbledore ignores the astonishment of his staff and students and raises his wand. "This means, we need a little change of decoration."

"We do not accept your awarding of points, Headmaster!"

The wand lowers and Dumbledore looks at Philomel, who is standing on a bench, in slight shock. "What was that, my boy?"

"Michele Romani, Hermione Granger, and I, Harry Potter, as well as the rest of the Ravenclaw House students do not accept the points that you have awarded to us.

"We, as a House, feel that we have not earned these points, along with the fact that they appear to be unfairly given to spite another prestigious Hogwarts House that has recently fallen under some suspicion due to the actions of one, Lord Voldemort.

"The Ravenclaw House feels that you have insulted our honour and the comradeship that we have developed with Slytherin House throughout the years, by thinking that we would accept such biased and unfairly awarded points. Should you have wanted to award points for our actions in protecting the Philosopher's Stone, then you should have awarded them whilst it was still the same season, at the very most. Not to mention that you have already, in the eyes of the school rules, announced the winners as the Slytherin."

If the silence before was dead, then the silence now could rival that of space. Every one of the Ravenclaws had their head held proudly, though most of the school was gaping at them in surprise.

Dumbledore tries to smile, but, to the student populace, it comes out looking like a grimace. "Harry, my boy, I am afraid that I am unable to withdraw points awarded, nor are you allowed to contest the granting of points."

McGonagall's lips tighten a bit more before she opens her mouth.

Philomel beats her to it. "Headmaster, I think you'll find that if you look at the rules, that students are allowed to reject points awarded, if the students are backed by their House and have valid reasons. Which we do. Award the House Cup to the true victors, Slytherin House."

A cheer erupts from the Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff Houses. Gryffindor seems to sulk, like a cat that didn't get its cream.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The trio, amongst all the other students, wanders out the great doors. Outside are what should be horseless carriages.

However, those three could see the skeletal horse-like creatures attached to the carriages.

"What are those, Harry!" exclaims Hermione.

Philomel shakes her head to rid it of the image and turns to Hermione and Michele.

"Come on; let's not worry about things that all three of us can see. At least we are not hallucinating."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"Harry, are you sure we should have done that? The Headmaster and the Gryffindors did not look happy." Hermione worries on the train, for the hundredth time that day.

Michele snorts and rolls his eyes. "Since when do you care what people think, Hermione? We were cheered by the rest of the school."

Philomel snaps her history book shut. "Hermione is right to be worried, Michele. We may have been cheered, but not by the strongest house. Gryffindor is not happy, and, soon, Hufflepuff will side with the Lions. We may have the support of the Snakes and Ravens but that is a very poor guarantee of safety."

Hermione glances toward the door just as it opens. Outside is Ron and a couple of other Gryffindors.

Ron barges in yelling at Philomel, "YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE WIZARDING WORLD, HARRY POTTER! HOW DARE YOU STAND UP FOR SNAKES! AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!" The people behind him nod like the good little sheep they are.

A sneer twists Philomel's features under the glamour. "When have I ever called you my friend, Mr. Weasley? I don't suppose it has occurred to you, either, to let the Wizarding World speak for itself? No, of course not. Because you are so brave, so powerful, and you have such prestige that you surpass even the Boy-Who-Lived, and can order him around."

A familiar voice cuts through the babble. "Is there a problem here? I would like to get through to see Harry!"

Philomel stands up and stares down the Gryffindors to allow Draco to come through. "Mr. Malfoy. It is very nice to see you, but I thought you would be celebrating with your housemates."

"No, well … yes, but I wanted to come thank you. Not many people would stand up for a Slytherin."

Philomel tilts her head. "I didn't do it just for you. The Headmaster had insulted my honour and my House's integrity. Something like that should not be left unpunished. It was also helpful that I could help a friend."

Draco laughs hesitantly. "How very Slytherin of you, Harry. But, whether you meant it or not, thank you."

The rest of the train ride passed without incident.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel watched apathetically as Michele and Hermione were picked up by their respective parents. She continued to watch the station empty from a bench placed in the middle of the platform.

When no one else was there, Philomel made her way out into London proper, where she wasted no time in ducking into an alley to remove the glamour. She is momentarily startled by a hand on her shoulder, but soon recognizes the touch of her godfather.

"Philomel, perhaps you should have stayed on Platform 9 ¾. You would be much safer there."

Philomel wriggles out of the grip, but tarries in leaving to make sure that Severus is there. "I would have been a sitting target. I lingered there long enough, Professor."

Severus sighs and follows. "Very well. I cannot argue with that reasoning. But I must stress the importance of not wandering where anyone can get you."

Philomel dips her head in acknowledgement.

"As much as it pains me to say, I must get you back to your Aunt and Uncle. They must be out of their minds with worry;" he snorts, "we didn't send them a letter explaining where you were."

Philomel keeps silent about it, thinking, 'They aren't. But what am I going to say to make sure that nothing happens to me?'

Severus inwardly scowls at not receiving proof of Philomel's abuse at the hands of her relatives. 'If I don't have proof, how can I save my goddaughter?'

They Portkey out, Philomel with a scowl on her face.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The two reappear in a stand of trees just outside of Surry. They quickly walk to Privet Drive, ignoring the confused looks at Philomel; whom the neighbors had only seen in oversized rags.

Severus nearly dragged Philomel all the way to Privet Drive, number four. Sirrush, who is now big enough to wrap around Philomel's thin wrists twice hisses into her ear, _/Missstresss, where are we going? Where isss Ssselah? /_

Philomel's fingers twitch as she answers, _/We are going to be staying in a house here, for the duration of the summer. Selah is going to stay at Hermione's for the summer, because the people who we are going to be staying with do not like birds. I must ask you not to move or speak unless I tell you too, Sirrush. Is that clear? /_

_/Yesss, Missstresss. I will return to my ssstation now. /_

_/Good girl. Don't worry about anything I might say or do, just keep on pretending you're a bracelet. /_

_/Yesss, Missstresss. Asss alwaysss, I will do asss you asssk. /_

By the end of the hissed conversation, Philomel and Severus are on the walkway leading up to Number Four's door. Severus looks down at Philomel. "Philomel, I wish I didn't have to leave you with these," a sneer "muggles, but I have no choice in the matter. I will come pick you up at the end of the summer, is that understood?"

Philomel rings the doorbell. "Perfectly, Professor."

Aunt Petunia opens the door with a large, very fake, smile. It dies as soon as she sees her guests.

Severus scowls at Petunia.

Aunt Petunia plasters the smile right back on and simpers, "You found her! I was so worried when Philomel didn't come back from the zoo with Dudders and Piers! It's been so long, we thought we'd never find her! Thank you so much, sir!"

Petunia pulls Philomel inside and gives her a rough hug. She whispers into Philomel's ear, "You are in so much trouble, brat."

Severus clears his throat. "We at Hogwarts apologize profusely for any strife this may have caused you and your family. We can assure you that your niece, Philomel Faye Potter, has been well taken care of and is in perfect health. We will collect your niece at the beginning of the next school year, and we will be sure to notify you if we are to collect her sooner. Goodbye, Mrs. Dursley." Severus turns around with a sneer and leaves. Petunia closes the door with a loud bang.

Philomel falls to her knees and starts to beg, "Aunt Petunia, they took me when I was waiting for someone to find me at the zoo. I didn't know who those freaks were, and then they started to do freaky things to me! They told me that I was a freak like them, and they made me do freaky things, just like them! They even put a freaky tracker on me, see?" Philomel brandishes Sirrush.

"You were completely in the right to punish me; I'm a freak, just like them.

"But, there are ways of becoming normal, just like you, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley. I want to be normal so badly, but I have to go back to those freaks every year until I find a way.

"But, when I become normal, I won't know anything about how to survive in the real world! Oh, Aunt Petunia, won't you send me to summer school so I know how to be normal?"

Petunia narrows her eyes in suspicion. "You want to be normal?"

Philomel nods vigorously. "More than anything else in the world. If only your punishments had worked."

Aunt Petunia snorts in disgust. "Fine, girl. But don't expect us to change our ways until you really are normal."

Philomel throws herself at Petunia and wraps arms around her aunt's legs. "Thank you, thank you, oh, thank you; Aunt Petunia."

"Get off me, freak! You're not normal yet! Back to your cupboard!"

Philomel drags her trunk into her cupboard and climbs over it, before landing on the meager cot allotted to her. A smile finds its way onto her lips. A cold and cruel smile, but a smile none the less.

"I will not be mistaken again. This time, I won't care who or what is better than me; I will be the best, no matter what."

Philomel reaches up and lifts a spider from its web. It crawls about on her white, pressed shirt.

"_Hush, little spider, don't say a word;_

_Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird._

_And if that mocking bird doesn't sing,_

_Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring…"_

Philomel stops her singing and sighs. "No, no, that's not right." She thinks for a moment, and then pets one of the spider's legs.

"_Weaving spiders come not here._

_Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence…!"_

:::

_**Hah! I finally finished the chapter! Evil, nasty little bugger. Okay, in this chapter, Philomel stands up for the snakes; right? Wrong! It's the principle of the thing, really. Philomel defeated Quirrel way back during Christmas break. It is now the end of the year. What Dumbledore did was low, but it was really him using what she did as a weapon to cut down the Slytherins. If she managed to help some of the friends she's made in that house, well, then, all the better!**_

_**Also, I would like to reply to an anonymous review I got last chapter. I know you're not supposed to, and I generally don't, but I'll make an exception.**_

_**Lethe (), first, let me thank you for taking your time to review my story. Now, to address your concerns. I realize that Perenelle will have been exposed to the English language for quite a long time, nearly a millennia if the muggle Nicholas Flamel is the wizarding one. This has little, to no, influence on my desire to have Perenelle drop in French words. And, in fact, if Perenelle was still speaking the French she was exposed to as a child, it would not sound like that. Pommes de terre was not even a word back then, as potatoes were a root from the Americas. Everyone has their quirks and one of Perenelle's is honoring her heritage by speaking broken English.**_

_**Oh, and a very special thanks to Phil (), for reviewing and helping me with my French.**_


	13. Summer Blues

_**I'm sorry for taking so long on this chapter; my sister forced me to read Naruto fanfics. By the way, how did you all like the seventh book? I was kind of hoping that Voldemort would win, but it was still great. My favorite chapter was the Gringotts break-in. Pure genius!**_

_**I, of course, do not own Harry Potter, otherwise it would have taken me a hell of a lot longer to write those books, lazy person that I am.**_

"_Spell__."_

"Speech."

_/Parseltounge. /_

'Thoughts.'

_**(Author Notes)**_

"_**Another language**__**"**_

:::

A week had passed at Privet Drive when Philomel was shoved out the door by her aunt and given the order to, "Go to Surrey Community College, girl! That's where you'll be learning normal things!"

Philomel picks up her book on anatomy that the Dursleys had bought for Dudley and dusts it off, before walking off in the vague direction of the college.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel was sitting cross-legged in a desk, reading her anatomy book and thinking, 'I suppose it's a good thing that Aunt Petunia pushed me out when she did. Walking that five miles in my boots is not fun, and I'd rather be too early, than too late.'

She is pulled, forcibly, out of her knowledge absorption and thoughts by another girls face on top of her book.

Philomel notices that she seems to be of Indian descent, if her brown skin and black hair, dyed, in places, with white, are anything to go by.

"May I help you?"

The other girl smiles, seeming to have cat lips instead of normal, human ones. "No."

Philomel scowls and tries to shake the girl off her book. The girl is unusually persistent in holding onto it. "Do you mind, then?"

She giggles. "Mind what?"

"Letting go of my book and leaving me alone."

The girl giggles yet again, flipping a long black braid behind her. "You're so serious! That's so cute! Do it again."

Philomel stares. "I'm not some zoo animal for you to goggle at! Now go away and leave me alone!"

The girl, flops into the desk next to Philomel and stares at her through the one blue eye not covered by white bangs. "I'm Anila Thomas, who are you?"

Philomel, finally fed up, marks her page and sets the book down. "My name is Philomel Potter. Now will you leave me alone?"

Anila grins widely and fiddles with one of her six earrings. "No. I'm going to be friends with you."

"We're not friends."

"Never said we were. I said that we're 'going' to be."

"That's as likely as Hell being a giant freezer."

Anila thinks about this for a moment, clearly puzzled. Then she smiles that demented grin again. "Careful, you just may get your wish."

An adult strides into the classroom, followed by at least a dozen other students. He waits while everyone finds a seat, and then begins, "Okay, class, since this is pro bono, I'll most likely lose most of you by the end of the summer. But for now…"

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel was in the corridors of a hospital, just sitting on the floor staring at the sterile white walls.

She had absolutely no idea how she got there.

Not that it mattered much, because soon enough, Philomel could hear footsteps coming down the hallway. A few minutes later, Anila pops up out of nowhere.

"Hi!"

Philomel looks horrified. "How did you get here!"

Anila smiles. "I don't know. But why are you here? It's so boring here."

"I like it."

Anila mock frowns, an unusual sight on someone so animated. "Well, that's no good." Then, quick as a cheetah, Anila reaches out and grabs Philomel's wrist before dragging her along.

Philomel, of course, struggles violently. "What are you doing! Let me go!"

Anila looks back and beams, "I'm livening you up, of course! Whether you like it or not."

Philomel is pulled, forcibly, all the way out of the many twisting corridors of the hospital; fighting all the way.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

When Philomel woke up, she sat up quickly and managed to bump her head on the ceiling. Rubbing her head, she recalled last nights dream.

"It's not enough that that girl had to annoy me during class, but now she has to appear in my dreams!"

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel was once again walking to the college, muttering about various things that had managed to make her mad that morning, when a familiar voice calls out.

"Philomel! Whatcha doing walking, it's at least three miles to school!"

Philomel scowls. "I'm well aware of how far it is to school."

Anila's hand slips off the car door she was using to hold herself up and she flails comically before regaining her balance. "Well then, why are you walking? Come on, my Dad'll take us."

Philomel weighs the pros and cons of doing this before stalking over to the car and getting in. An insincere, "Thank you." later and Philomel has her anatomy book out.

But Anila does not let her off that easily. "Daddy, this is my new friend, Philomel Potter. Philomel, this is my father, Abiram Thomas."

An older man at the wheel turns around to greet Philomel with an upraised right hand and a smile that's so wide it makes him close his blue eyes, so much like his daughter's. "Very exalted I am, too. Hi."

Philomel's eyes go wide as she sees them veer off their side of the road and seem to be in the correct path to have a head-on collision with a nice tanker.

Anila calmly corrects the steering wheel. "Daddy, what have I told you about driving like the Americans?"

"Oh, dear; was I, really? That's not good."

Philomel decides that she doesn't want to look out the window anymore than she has too and returns to reading.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Days pass and Philomel falls into a routine of sorts. She walks partway to summer school, and Anila, with her father, picks Philomel up. Anila and Philomel sit together, Philomel always denying being Anila's friend whenever she asks. Then Philomel is dropped off, by Abiram and Anila, perhaps a mile from the Dursleys' house.

For reasons unknown to even her, Philomel had stopped meaning those denials so much.

It was almost three weeks later, when Philomel was first invited to Anila's house.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

"No."

"Aww, come on, it'll be fun! We can do homework together. Whatever you want!"

Philomel turns the page of her newest book, a dissertation on archeology. "I said, no."

Anila fiddles with her middle earring on her left ear. The chain on it chinks. "Why?"

Philomel ignores her, thinking, 'Well, for one, Aunt Petunia would never let me, nor would Dudley. Not that I want to, of course.'

"Well, Philomel, you think about it. If you want, I can even talk your aunt and uncle into letting you sleep over!" A happy smile follows that statement.

Philomel's eyes widen in horror. "No! I'll talk to them and see if I can't. There's no reason for you speak to my aunt and uncle."

Anila smiles dimwittedly. "Okay! I'll tell Daddy. Loony should be there too. It's her week to visit us."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel hesitantly approaches Petunia after the Dursleys had eaten their dinner and says quietly, "Aunt Petunia, I've been invited to a classmates house for a study session tomorrow. Is that okay?"

Aunt Petunia narrows her eyes. "This _classmate_. Are they normal?"

Philomel makes her eyes go wide and innocent. "Oh, yes, Aunt Petunia! They are almost as normal as Dudley and you and Uncle Vernon! But nobody could be as normal as you are, so it's a pale comparison."

Petunia petulantly flips a hand. "Fine. See if you can't stay longer. The less your freakishness pollutes my house, the better."

"Thank you, Aunt."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The next day was as routine as the last weeks, but for what happened that afternoon.

"Are you ready girls?" Abiram asked. Philomel looks at the car with certain distrust in her emerald eyes.

"Yes, Daddy!"

"I suppose, if I must be."

They get in the car, and Philomel huddles against the seat during the entire harrowing ride. Maybe five minutes later, the car jerks to a halt and Philomel flashes out of the car and is staring at the ground like she wishes to kiss it.

Anila bounds out of the car, the sheer energy she has shocking Philomel out of her little bout of carsickness. "Well, this is our house! We have my cousin, Luna Lovegood, visiting this week, she's really cute!"

Philomel looks at the house and suddenly wishes she hadn't stopped staring at the ground.

The house is as eccentric as the people who own it. It's painted various different bright colors, many of which clash horribly. It's taller then it is wide, and it also seems to lean to the side a bit. But no matter how tall it is, the house was not going to fall down because Philomel could smell the faint scent of magic; ozone and heavy humidity.

Her eyes widen. 'They have magic? Anila, Mr. Thomas? They can't, Anila's old enough to go to Hogwarts…'

Anila bounds up to the house and pulls open the door. A girl a year younger stands in the middle of the doorway.

"Hello, Nilly. You're home early today. So the pretty girl you talk about is coming?"

Anila ruffles the girl's pale blond hair. "She's already here, Looney. And her name's Philomel."

"Okay."

Philomel walks up to the door. The little girl, who is really only a year younger than she is, smiles dreamily at her.

"Hello. You really are pretty. I'm Luna, but you can call me Loony, pretty girl."

Philomel blushes and she screams in her mind, 'Insanity runs in the family! Why did I agree to this!'

Anila, who had disappeared further into the house, comes back with an octopus hanging around her neck. Philomel notes that it's still alive and is about ready to pull out her lovely long hair.

The octopus waves a tentacle at Philomel. Anila smiles indulgently at it and says, "Philomel, this is my familiar, Kallistrate. She's an octopus."

Philomel forces herself not to choke. "I can see that."

Anila smiles at her. "Well, come on in! Don't worry about the house falling down; magic keeps it from falling down. Just like it keeps a little bubble of water around my precious little baby, yes you are, yes you are…" Anila's little tangent trails off into cooing over the octopus, which seems to be reciprocating the affection. Philomel gains an eye twitch.

Luna, who had disappeared for a moment, suddenly appears in front of Philomel, holding a spider to Philomel's face. "This is my familiar, pretty girl. Her name is Dido."

Philomel shrieks in surprise.

Anila, having disappeared for a second, comes back with a book opened to a certain page.

"Philomel, you remember when you said that we would be friends if Hell was a giant freezer?"

Philomel looks a little apprehensive. "Something to that extent, yes."

Anila shoves the book into Philomel's face, causing her to go cross-eyed. "This book says that the ninth level of Hell is a plain where the worst souls are frozen eternally! So that means we're friends!"

Philomel sighs. 'Gods, what did I ever do to you? I don't deserve this…yet…'

:::

_**Gods, this is short. But this entire chapter was merely an excuse to introduce Anila and Luna. And I've been spoiled by another fanfic that I don't think I will upload for a while. Each chapter is approximately ten pages each chapter. Tell me what you think of Anila, she'll be important later. And if any of you know Love Hina, I based Luna on Mutsumi. I know what Luna's personality is in the books, but I wanted to try something different. Review please!**_


	14. A New Day

_**Please read the author's note at the end. It contains important information.**_

_**I do not own Harry Potter.**_

:::

Philomel tumbled out of the fire grate and hit a shelf.

"Damn wizarding travel. If they're so smart, why don't they make easier ways of traveling?"

She looked around and didn't see Anila or Abiram anywhere. She did, however, hear voices from the front of the shop that she fell into; one of them very familiar.

Making her way to the front, Philomel took the time to look at the things that literally littered the halls of the small shop. One of the things caught her eye, however; a silver object glinting in the dirty sunlight that streamed through the windows.

It was a grimy silver coronet, nothing more than a beat up band. The point that would rest in the middle of the forehead slopes downward to a peak on which was attached to a disk of obsidian that would lie on the ridge of the brow. Carefully picking it up with gloved hands, Philomel walked to the counter.

"Messrs Malfoy, Mr. Borgin, I presume? Forgive my intrusion; I am not used to travel by Floo. Perhaps one of you could enlighten me on my whereabouts and how I might go about getting to Diagon Alley? And, of course, help making myself presentable again could not go amiss."

Draco stared at Philomel, not recognizing her for a moment. "Ms. Faye? What are you doing here, pray tell?"

Philomel lowered her head demurely to Lucius and Borgin. "Forgive Mr. Malfoy and myself on not introducing me sooner. My name is Philomel Faye. I also wish to purchase something from you, Mr. Borgin."

Lucius tapped his cane on the store counter. "It is a pleasure, Ms. Faye. We will finish this business later, Mr. Borgin. You have a customer."

Philomel carefully set the coronet on the counter and watched as Borgin inspected it carefully.

"I'll sell this to you for one hundred galleons."

Philomel's eyes were hooded coquettishly. "That's outrageous." she said softly. "Any muggle silversmith could do a better job for a lower price. It is dented and smudged, there is patina, and the obsidian, a common stone, is scored. It is a mere trinket, but I will give you twenty-five galleons for it, and be happy that it is even that much."

"Twenty-five is much too low for a piece with such history! But out of the goodness of my heart, I will take it down to fifty."

"If there is such history, then you should take better care of it. I will pay no more than twenty-five, and if you do not stop insisting on such inflated prices, I will walk out of here and go to a muggle silversmith. Be sure I will mention your unwillingness to deal with me fairly to all my associates."

Borgin blanched and hurriedly rung up the twenty-five galleons before handing the coronet to Philomel. "Thank you, Mr. Borgin. May you have a pleasant day. Messrs Malfoy, shall we?"

Lucius and Draco opened the door for Philomel and allowed her to go out first. Lucius performed scourgify on Philomel and they began to walk down the street.

Draco walked alongside Philomel, a little ways in front of his father. "Would you have really gone to a Muggle to get a piece of jewelry, Ms. Faye?"

Lucius unconsciously leaned forward, eager to hear this. Philomel sniffed primly.

"Yes. I rarely say things I do not mean, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked puzzled. "But, a muggle! Muggles could never be better than magic-users at anything."

"That is ignorance speaking. Non-adepts work materials with their hands and machines, which facilitate the working. Magic-users are dependent on magic; I doubt that many would survive if they could no longer rely on magic to bring them through."

Lucius, interested in the way the conversation was turning, decided to intervene. "Magic will never be taken away from those with pure blood." he refuted with conviction.

Philomel shruged slightly. "You know, I have heard that the Egyptian Pharaohs of old were magic-users. Is this true, Mr. Malfoy?"

Wondering slightly at the dramatic turn in conversation, Lucius gave his assent.

Philomel smiled, green eyes flashing with mischief. "Well, blood dilutes, as the Pharaohs have shown. Not through the marriage to magical children of non-adepts, but through the marriage and production of children with close-relatives. Make no mistake, messrs, be it now, be it later, your prided blood will dilute.

"And with that dilution, will come the fading of your magics. Already it has begun, and it will continue. Perhaps it will not be noticed, but, eventually, the purebloods will become nothing more than witches and wizards who do parlor tricks for the entertainment of the more powerful."

Philomel cocked her head to the side to look at the two wizards and smiled innocently. "Of course, that may not be so."

Lucius' eye almost twitched. Draco gaped. Philomel disappeared under an enthusiastic jump by Anila.

"Philly, I thought we lost you! Loony said that you got caught by the chimney shrikles, and not to worry; but I was so worried!" Anila wailed, nearly choking Philomel.

Philomel punched Anila in the stomach and jumped away, panting. "Don't do that, Anila!"

Anila mock-pouted. "I was worried."

"And I was choking!"

Lucius and Draco recovered, and the elder cleared his throat. Philomel started.

"Ah, forgive us for making a scene, Messrs Malfoy. This is my friend, Anila Thomas. Anila, these are Lucius and Draco Malfoy."

Anila smirked. "Of the French Malfois? It is a great pleasure to met two members of such a notorious family."

Philomel's fingers twitched like she wanted to choke something; preferably her friend.

Lucius raised an eyebrow and nearly sneered as well. "It is rare that someone recognizes the main branch of my family. Tell me, Ms. Thomas, how do you know this?"

Anila tilted her head back and to the side. "My mother did business with their Indian contacts, up until her death a year ago. I believe you have her to thank for many of your medical patents."

"Ah, yes, Cithara Thomas. Such a tragedy."

Abiram wandered up, Hermione and Michele in tow.

"Hello, Lucius, old friend; how are you?"

Lucius inclined his head with a smirk. "I have been fine, Abiram. You must stop by the mansion sometime this year; we have quite a bit to catch up on; wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, yes. Is that your son?"

"Is that your daughter?"

Abiram laughed. "Right, right, silly question to ask. Thank you for bringing Philomel back; she is not used to wizarding travel."

Lucius smirked. "It was my pleasure. Ms. Faye is a delight to converse with. I look forward to meeting her again, perhaps. We must be going, Abiram; do stop by."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The rest of the summer was spent, with a certain amount of relief from Philomel, with the Thomases and Luna.

Despite Dumbledore sending an owl requesting that she return to her relatives Abiram politely denied the Headmasters request and sent him a free copy of _The Quibbler_, his brother-in-law's newspaper.

In fact, despite frequent trips back to Surrey for the summer schooling; Philomel was not in the country for most of the summer. Instead she went on trips with the Thomases to places ranging from Paris to Buenos Aries, on nearly every single continent.

The reason they took so many trips, Philomel found out, was Abiram and Cithara's business partners.

Apparently Anila's mother was a famous potions inventor and her father was an equally famous spells inventor. Together, they created many medicines and treatments for various illnesses around the world.

It was when Cithara was working on a potion to cure HIV/AIDs that she contracted the disease herself through a dirty needle; stabbed through her neck by terrorists who wanted to stop her work. She tested positive almost immediately and died only months later from smallpox, having refused to stop treating patients: even at her own risk.

The trips were to inform all their business partners of Cithara's death.

Philomel also discovered that Anila showed promise of inheriting her mother's gift and that was why Abiram wanted his daughter to go to Hogwarts: to study potions under the Potions Master Severus Snape.

The only problem with this new life was that Philomel was dreading the return to Hogwarts and her Harry Potter persona.

She knew that bad things would happen this year at Hogwarts; something in her bones insisted that terrible things were going to happen—starting after her meeting with Draco and Lucius Malfoy in Knockturn.

As Philomel stared into the darkness of Anila's room, she thought about the things she'd have to tell her newest friend.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_**Ottery St. Catchpole, The Burrow**_

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

At the far end of the only road in Ottery St. Catchpole was a dirt pathway that led quite a ways into the surrounding trees and groves. At the end of this pathway was a house much like the Thomases' home, only a bit more precariously built and held up. This house was home to the Weasley family.

In a bedroom she had to herself, the youngest child sat up, her new/old wand glowing with a soft light. She was not dreading the new school year, far from it. No, the reason the youngest Weasley was still up at that time of night was because she was writing to her diary.

This is fairly normal for many young girls everywhere, but there was something different about young Ginny Weasley's diary.

It wrote back.

Now Ginny did not see anything wrong with this, she was only a young witch after all, and didn't have much experience with these things. But as she poured out all her young hopes and fears to her precious diary, the memory in it grew stronger.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Philomel was up well before Anila was, and she just watched the other girl sleep.

_/Sirrush, do you think she'll still want to be my friend? Will she understand why I do this? /_ hissed the girl sadly.

The snake—who had grown quite a bit over the summer, and now wrapped twice around Philomel's arm—looked up at her mistress. _/Even I do not underssstand why you do it, missstresss. But the odd girlsss will ssstill like you. They will not sssee you any differently. /_

Anila smirked, her blue eyes flying open. "Ha! I knew it! That's your familiar! And you're a Parselmouth! I totally knew it!"

In her surprise, Philomel nearly dropped Sirrush; the snake only being saved by a few quick beats of her rapidly growing wings.

"Uh, you're awake Anila?" Philomel smiled sheepishly. "Well, yes, that's all true, but I have to tell you something else before we go to Hogwarts…"

A bright smile spread across Anila's tan features. "What, that you're Harry Potter? 'Cause I already knew that. Your last name is Potter, and there ain't that many magicals around with that last name. Anything else you need to tell me?"

Philomel gaped like a fish for a moment before she regained her senses.

"There are a couple people I want you to meet."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Luna, Philomel, and Anila boarded the Hogwarts' Express quickly after saying goodbye to Abiram, finding a compartment almost immediately.

Anila quickly settled into the seat, rambling on about some of the places in India that she'd been while Luna worked out a crossword puzzle and Philomel immersed herself in a book on advanced defensive spells—too advanced for her to be able to perform, but she liked to read the theory.

It did not take long for Hermione to find the compartment, and she threw herself at Philomel.

"Oh, Harry, I missed you so much! How was your summer? I hope the muggles weren't too bad—oh, who's this?"

Philomel gently returned Hermione's enthusiastic hug, before she waved at Anila. "That is Anila Thomas, and this," waving at Luna, "is Luna Lovegood, her cousin. Anila is transferring to Hogwarts in our year. I met her at muggle summer school and spent a good deal of my summer at her house. So don't worry, she knows. How was your summer?"

Hermione looked critically at the two other girls, before she smiled. "They've obviously been a good influence. Summer was good; my parents were very interested in everything I had to tell them. Hello, my name is Hermione Granger, I'm Harry's friend."

Anila beamed, while Luna just waved vaguely. "Hi!" replied the elder of the two.

Things immediately settle back into a routine, this time with Anila and Hermione chatting about the places they've traveled to with their parents.

:::

_**I'm sorry to tell you all this, but I will not be writing anymore for this story. It breaks my heart to do so, but I no longer have any inspiration for it. I will be posting what notes I have as well as the rough drafts of the ends of what would have been the next two stories. This was supposed to be a trilogy. I'm very sorry to do this, and I really did love writing this while I had the inspiration. Thank you all for reading this and sticking through my many and long hiatuses while I tried to find anything at all that would let me not have to do this.**_


	15. My notes for Lullaby and Ballad

_**These are my notes, the roughs that I've written of two chapters will go up in order after this. Thank you again for reading this story.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter.**_

:::

Philomel goes to Hogwarts, nothing really happens on the train, Anila and Luna are tentatively accepted by Hermione and Michele. Draco does not show up.

The basilisk starts in on the attacks on Halloween, of course. Philomel and the others do not go to Nick's deathday party. Instead, Philomel and the others find out about the next day from Draco. Philomel tries to ignore the attacks for the most part.

Christmas holiday rolls around, few people stay in Ravenclaw except for most of the OWLs and NEWTs students. Philomel gets her first period, screams, passes out and gets found out by her fellow Ravenclaws. A round of explanations follow: the older students about a women's period, Philomel about why she has to go around as a male. The Ravenclaws enter an oath to keep her secret.

Hermione is attacked and petrified, Philomel becomes withdrawn and severely depressed; Anila is worried and Luna notices that something is wrong with Ginny. Anila and Michele band together to find out what is going around petrifying people.

When Anila and Michele narrow it down, Anila goes to find Philomel in the library; where Philomel is about to have a nervous breakdown because she has heard the basilisk and been told what it is by Sirrush. She fears that everyone will turn on her when they find out. Anila tries to calm Philomel down, finally resorting to kissing her. Philomel is horrified, and Anila quickly explains that she was showing her love in the only way that Philomel would understand.

Ginny and Luna are soon taken into Chamber of Secrets; Luna was only taken because she interrupted Ginny on her way to the Chamber. Philomel and Anila go after them, while Michele stands guard over Lockhart, who interrupted them sneaking into the bathroom.

Anila is sent back up to find Snape when the two come across the basilisk skin. Philomel was told to stay there and wait, but she goes on by herself so that she can save Luna. There she finds Tom, Ginny's comatose body, and Luna lying on the ground lightly stunned. After a short give and take of rather meaningless information, Tom summons the basilisk. Philomel negotiates with it to let her go in return for her allowing it to go into the Forbidden Forest to feed, which it doesn't accept and it instead bites her through the shoulder. Philomel sends the first spell that comes to mind into it's mouth (probably a reducto)—which kills it. Philomel crawls to the diary and collapses on top of it.

She wakes up with Anila and Luna petting her hair, and Snape looking over the basilisk corpse. Luna tells Philomel that Tom was pulled back into the diary, and that Ginny would be fine with a little rest. Anila tells Philomel that she really should be dead, the only reason she's probably not is because she collapsed onto the diary and took the life energy into herself.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

It is a normal summer, Philomel still sleeps in the cupboard. She hears about Sirius Black escaping, but doesn't think much about it. She goes to Anila's house before Marge arrives. When they go to Diagon Alley, Philomel also stops by Borgin and Burkes. There Borgin offers the matching sword to her coronet. She buys it.

On the train, when the Dementors come, Philomel hears a beeping and freaks out. Despite not knowing how to do a Patronus, she sends what looks like an extremely overpowered one at the Dementor which sends it out the door before collapsing. She wakes up a week later and is informed that she had extreme magical exhaustion.

She meets Remus Lupin, and asks him to teach her how to kill a Dementor. He says that no one can kill a Dementor, but that he will teach her to deflect one. She accepts. When they are taught about boggarts, hers turns into a dementor briefly before Lupin pushes her out of the way. She once again hears the beeping.

During her Patronus training, the beeping continues, along with muffled voices and the occasional thump of electricity. She starts to lose sleep over it, and her friends recognize this, but she refuses to tell them about it. Sirius Black tries to break into the Gryffindor tower.

Philomel goes for a walk one evening to talk to Sirrush alone, and is attacked by a giant dog while she is in her female form. She is dragged through a tunnel while holding a rat she had caught to feed to Sirrush—who had gone to fetch her friends and a teacher. There, the dog turns into Sirius who demands the rat. She gives it to him, and it turns into Pettigrew. Remus shows up before Sirius can kill him, and they explain brusquely to Philomel who that is and why Sirius is innocent.

Things proceed almost exactly like the third book, except that neither Sirius nor Remus recognize Philomel as Harry. However, when Sirius and Philomel are attacked by the hive, Philomel instead sees her worst memory: Petunia hitting her with the lip of a heavy frying pan, her blood pooling on the ground, sirens blaring, doctors muttering amongst themselves and the steady beep of the heart monitor which suddenly turned into one long wail as her heart stops and pain stops, then thumps of the pads as they try to revive her, and the beeping comes back as does the pain. Philomel wakes up with a dementor bent over her about to kiss her and she immediately casts a Patronus—which turned into a giant sand worm.

Snape finds both Sirius and Philomel on the edge of the lake.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Fourth year pretty much the same, except Philomel manages to cajole a marginally more sane Barty into helping her. Biggest difference comes with the last chapter.

:::

_**These are all my notes, and you'll notice that they're not always detailed, so if you have any questions, please, don't hesitate to ask, or make up your own ideas. And remember, even though Anila and the others don't play a big role in my notes, doesn't mean that they didn't in the story. Everyone, especially Anila, had huge parts in Philomel's life.**_


	16. The Ballad of the Nightingale, last chap

:::

Philomel nervously twisted her raven pendant, just knowing that something bad was going to happen during this task.

Something had occurred during every other task, and it had made her paranoid. Something was brewing, something bad. Even though she'd turned the Death Eater to her side, her instincts were screaming that the danger was not over.

Still Philomel paid close attention to Ludo Bagman as he announced the rules of the third task.

"Now listen closely champions. This task, as you can probably see, is that of a maze. But this is not just any maze, oh no! In it's corridors are spells, creatures, and plants designed to keep you from getting to the middle. But you will have to reach the middle of the maze because that is where the cup resides. The Champion who touches the cup first will be the winner of this tournament. We'll be staggering the entrances; those with the most points will go first. That means that Cedric and Harry, you two should go and stand by the entrance. You'll be going in at the same time."

As the two of them stood at the entrance way, Philomel stared into it's dark twists and turns, and flinched when a roar sounded far within.

Cedric noticed this, and smiled at her. "Hey, Potter, calm down. This shouldn't be too bad, it's not like there's going to be a dragon. They already did those. You're a good wizard, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. Just don't panic and everything will be fine, right? Good luck, and may the best man win."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

Cedric and Philomel were deposited harshly onto the ground by the Portkey, when a neon-green jet of light flew over their heads. Cedric dived to the side, taking shelter behind a gravestone while Philomel was hit with two different spells—one tearing away half her shirt and her glamoured necklace, the other binding her to another gravestone.

"Potter!" hisses Cedric, though he does not leave the meager safety of the gravestone to help her.

Three dark figures raise their wands, but they lower them when an eerie voice whispers, "Leave the boy, he is no danger. Start the ritual, I must be whole!"

"NO! VOLDEMORT!" screams Philomel, straining against the bonds. A squat figure melts out of the darkness to stand next to the girl. "It was you, you bastard! It wasn't enough to kill my parents, but now you insist on compounding your sins! You'll die before the night is through, I promise that!"

Wormtail merely stares at her impassively, and then stabs her harshly in the arm. She screams as her blood pours into a crystal bottle.

The dark ritual continues, as a bone is levitated out of the grave beneath Philomel, Wormtail severs his own hand, before dumping the blood into it. Light flashed out of the huge cauldron as an odd, snake-like, baby-like creature was placed into it lovingly by an emaciated witch.

Smoke poured over the graveyard, giving Cedric chills up and down his spine. He risked a glance at the girl who had been Harry Potter to him, and saw that her face had beaded in cold sweat and her skin looked like cottage cheese. Pain racked her body and blood poured down her arm.

"Go on, Diggory, grab the cup, it's a Portkey," she panted, "it'll take you back to Hogwarts. Warn the Headmaster that he's back. Don't worry about me."

Cedric shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not leaving without you."

A figure rose from the cauldron—too tall and thin to be human. The magic holding Philomel to the headstone exploded as she screamed, "GO, NOW!"

Her wand came up the same time as Voldemort shot an Avada at her, but she was too slow. Sirrush, however, was not—the snake's powerful white wings blocking the killing curse from her mistress.

"SIRRUSH!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Once again, however, the curse missed its mark; hitting Cedric in the back as he grabbed Philomel's hand. The last thing she heard in that graveyard was her own scream as his corpse hit her.

Then they were back at Hogwarts, Philomel still screaming. She could see the entirety of the spectators rise from their seats to stare at her in shock: her and the dead body that lay on top of her.

She could see Anila, Hermione, and Michele forcing their way down from the stands, but darkness gathered at the corners of her vision too quickly, and Philomel knew they would get there too late. She let the darkness take over.

Moody limped quickly over to her, and was the first to reach her. He gathered the unconscious girl up in his arms and the two of them disappeared.

The crowd roared, finally figuring out that Cedric was dead and Harry Potter was no where to be found, and they wanted blood.

Anila screamed out, "NO! SHE'S HARRY, SHE'S HARRY POTTER! IT WAS GLAMOUR, PLEASE, STOP!"

But not even Hermione and Michele could stop the mob that had formed from grabbing the girl and no one would listen to their protestations of her and Philomel's innocence.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_**Two Champions Dead, Boy-Who-Lived One of Them!**_

_**By Rita Skeeter**_

_This journalist mourns with the families and friends of two of the Triwizard Champions: Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter._

_In a shocking end to the third and final task, the two—as soon as they touched the Triwizard Cup—were whisked away by a Portkey to locales unknown; only for Diggory's corpse and an unknown girl to be returned._

_Identified as Philomel Faye by Draco Malfoy—an old acquaintance of hers—it is believed that she is behind the two murders. However, an accomplice of hers—posing as infamous Auror, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody—escaped with her before the authorities could incarcerate the cold-blooded murderer._

_A "friend" of Harry Potter's, Anila Thomas, was arrested by Aurors; who believe that she knows the whereabouts of Faye. She was heard screaming that Philomel was Harry—and hasn't even cracked under Veritaserum. It is believed that her mother—Potions Mistress Cithara Thomas—had developed a counter to the truth serum, so she will be imprisoned in Azkaban until she breaks._

_But this is a sad day for the Wizarding World, who lost not only their saviour, but a very sweet and intelligent boy. Good-bye Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory—we will miss you._

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_My dearest friends,_

_I am sorry for all of the pain I've caused you. I cannot even tell you how sorry I am._

_But I must cause you more._

_I must ask that you all forget about me. Forget that you ever knew me. You'll be safer, and I would feel less guilty for bringing this upon you._

_Please do not owl me unless it is life or death. Either way, you will not have a reply._

_I will be back in a few years to defeat Voldemort. Please forget all about me, pretend I was nothing to you. It will be easier on you all._

_Hermione, I give Selah to you. I cannot have her here, and Sirrush is dead. Seeing Selah reminds me too much of my familiar; the one who told me everything, and stayed with me throughout her entire life._

_This is goodbye my friends._

_Philomel Faye Potter._

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_Philomel,_

_We will never forget you. So stop thinking that right now._

_Do you know what Anila has done? She has allowed herself to be sentenced to a life in Azkaban for aiding and abetting you. You? A murderer? Ha! Morbid though you are, you'd probably commit suicide if you ever killed someone. Besides Quirrel that is._

_Hermione thanks you for Selah: and those tearstains are hers too._

_Voldemort announced his return a year after you left; people think that you somehow resurrected him. You didn't, did you? Don't forget, we know that that fake Moody was a death eater._

_We'll be waiting for you when you return. You better have a good excuse for leaving, otherwise it won't be pleasant._

_Luna wishes me to remind you that you promised us at the beginning of the year that you wouldn't leave us for anything. I suppose that you lied—that was a direct quote._

_We miss you,_

_Michele._

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_In the old days, the wizarding armies would often meet on the field of battle much as the muggle armies. Some of the greatest "natural" monuments of the muggle world were created by the magics that were tossed between these armies._

_As it was with the muggle armies, the magical generals often led their armies._

_These generals were taught a last resort spell, should all else fail. Although it would end in their death, this spell would allow the user to gain the energy of those who had fallen before them in the hopes that they could then defeat the enemy. It worked best to end a war, not a battle, as there is a great amount of preparation needed._

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_**Five Years Later…**_

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_**Is This The End?**_

_**By Colin Creevey**_

_Many people have cursed Philomel Faye over the years for taking our saviour from us, but now we at The Daily Prophet believe that we should ask her to help us._

_If she can kill the Boy-Who-Lived, then surely she can defeat Voldemort. The only problem is that no one has seen her in five years. Perhaps she has been scared into hiding, or perhaps she wants nothing to do with us._

_Dumbledore has worked hard over the past four years to insure the safety of magical Britain, but now, with his death, I think I speak for everyone when I say that I fear for our way of life._

_All I can say is that death comes swiftly upon us, and only a miracle will save us now._

_Please, Faye, if you are reading this, help us._

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_Gringotts' Manager,_

_I'm sure that you have known that Philomel Faye and Harry Potter are one in the same for a long time now._

_Enclosed is my last will and testament. I will be engaging in potentially deadly activities soon, so I wish to have this entered into your records._

_Thank you, and may your gold run free,_

_Philomel Faye Potter._

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

_The Last Will and Testament of Philomel Faye Potter._

_I, Philomel Faye Potter, being of sound mind and body leave my material possessions to be distributed as follows:_

_To Sirius Black I leave one-ninth of my fortune, as well as my property named Godric's Hollow._

_To Severus Snape, I leave one-ninth of my fortune, as well as the forested land I own._

_To Remus Lupin, I leave one-ninth of my fortune, as well as my property named Potter Cottage._

_To Draco Malfoy, I leave one-ninth of my fortune, as well as the coronet, which I have entrusted to my Gringotts' account manager, and matching sword, which should be on my person in the event of my death._

_To Michele Romani, I leave one-ninth of my fortune, as well as my town-house in Venice._

_To Luna Lovegood, I leave one-ninth of my fortune, as well as the notes taken by Potters on magical creatures. They are in the Potter Manor._

_To Hermione Granger, I leave one-ninth of my fortune, as well as the entire Potter library._

_To Gringotts Bank, I leave one-ninth of my fortune, as well as any goblin-crafted objects not mentioned above._

_And to my dearest friend, Anila Thomas, I leave the remaining ninth of my fortune, as well as anything not named above._

_Signed: Philomel Faye Potter_

_Witnessed by: Bartimaeus Crouch Junior, and Minerva McGonagall_

:::


	17. The End of the Song

_**Well, here it is the final chapter of the Lullaby trilogy. I know a lot of you waited a long time for this, and I can only say I'm sorry. I only hope that you enjoyed it, and that it wasn't too painful waiting for me to update.**_

_**I don't own Harry Potter.**_

:::

I said goodbye to my previous life as soon as I stepped onto that forsaken hell many called Azkaban. I knew from letters I'd received from my friends what had occurred to Anila in my absence. If it wouldn't ruin the chances of anyone ever killing Voldemort I could have killed myself right when I read that thrice-damned letter.

Instead of me, it was Anila who went to Azkaban; for the laughable charge of aiding and abetting a murderer. Me. The trial was a farce, just like Sirius', but there was nothing to be done about that now. Things had gotten dire in my absence, this just one of them; and the most easily fixed.

Barty, my teacher for the past four or five years, set down next to me. The years had not been kind to him, but he stayed by my side through thick and thin—for what reason I don't know, but I am grateful for him. He looks at me, fear in the back of his eyes, and I simply stare back dispassionately.

"I suppose we are really going to do this, then?" he asks, despite already knowing the answer.

Despite the question being undoubtedly rhetorical I take the time to answer, "Yes, of course, she's suffered far too long for me." Something she never should have done, she should have forgotten about me and tried to live—despite Voldemort's constant shadow.

"Well then, perhaps you should take the first assault, what with your magic-blasted Patronus that's probably the size of Azkaban itself?"

I smile at the recommendation. It was rather true that my Patronus was huge, but that's what sandworms were. Huge with lots of sharp, pointy teeth. It scared the shit out of the Dementors and most anything else. And for some reason, Anila loved it. Well, this time, it'd be rescuing her, so she'd better love it.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

I watched Anila's sleeping face as she lay in my bed. The years had not been kind to her either, and Azkaban was no place for a Healer. If, that is, she could ever work as a Healer like her mother now.

Her bleached bangs had grown out and now looked comical—half black, half white—and her hair had lengthened. Her once caramel skin had lightened drastically to a sickly yellowish colour. I laugh to myself, because that's all I can do without crying. It's been a week since McGonagall put us up in Hogwarts, and she's not been looking much better.

Then again, it's only been a week.

I turn away from Anila and back to my work. The final battle is coming soon and I will need to prepare my sword. In point of fact, according to Voldemort's thoughts, the battle would be tomorrow.

It was painful looking at my dogwood wand, very painful, especially knowing what I was going to do to it. But, as I think to myself, it's all for the greater good. Then I giggle, thinking about what Dumbledore used to say. I never believed him, but, in the end, he was right. But the difference was that this was my choice.

I ponder a bit about the nature of my sword, and, of course, once again read the inscription on the double-edged blade. **'If you read this, then you are dead or you have become master of death for this is the blade of Hades.'** I roll my eyes. My coronet, which I found by chance those many years ago in Knockturn, had nearly the same inscription. Privately, I thought that the previous owner was a bit of an egotistical prick.

It didn't matter though, all that did matter was that it was in some ways a magical sword and that is precisely what I needed. Shielding Anila from noise, I put the sword down on a nearby table, careful not to disturb any of the bowls and bottles that I have scattered on it. It's time to get to work.

Once again I stare at the thirteen inches of wand I hold in my hand. It was indescribably beautiful to me right then. I close my eyes and whisper, "_Exuro_." It was like a physical sensation—in that I could literally feel part of me burn away with my beloved wand—and I could feel the ashes slip through my fingers into the en-runed bowl beneath my hand.

I couldn't dwell on that, though, there was work to be done. Ignoring the lone tear that slipped down my face, I added some holy water—taken from a muggle church. Though it did not have any actual holy properties, the mixture was useful in many potions. Not to mention, of course, that the recipe had been lost from wizarding society for some time.

Mixing the concoction with a plain old spoon, I waited for the right consistency. Without it, there would be little point in my burning my wand. Ah, there it was. I waste no time in pouring the mixture over the sword, rubbing it in as much as I could. I didn't even notice Barty come in until he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"You're really going to go through with this, aren't you?"

Cocking my head to the other side, I mutter, "Of course. I'm the only one who can." Even though I'm sure I look like a petulant child, I don't particularly care. I'm entitled to being a little childish at times.

Barty, however, looks about ready to explode at me, though, but he doesn't. "Fine, but don't expect me to stick around to watch you waste my teachings."

I knew that was going to happen, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Nobody said you had too, Barty. Thank you for everything you've done for me. I suppose this is goodbye for good then?"

A soft look came over my teacher's face for a moment, before disappearing. "Yeah, kid, its goodbye for good."

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

My eyes are tender, and it's the middle of the night when Anila half-way wakes up. I'd been dreading this, yet now that it's happened, I feel kind of elated.

"Mmm, Philly…? Is that you?" Her voice is scratchy and rough, nothing like it once was.

"Yes, it's me, Anila. You're safe now. You're never going back to that place again." Tears nearly choked off my words, but I forced them out anyways.

A sleepy smile spread across Anila's haggard face, and her blue eyes open partially. "I always knew you'd come, Philly. It was just a matter of time…"

I smile too, even through my tears. "I'm sorry I took so long, then, since you were waiting so long. You should go back to sleep, you need all the rest you can get." I pause, debating with myself. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Anila nods sleepily, and falls back into oblivion; cuddling into the blankets. I stare at her until a soft cough comes from the open doorway. Luna stands there, so much more grown up since the last time I saw her, with a disappointed look on her fey face.

"You're going to break your promise to her again. She hates it when you do that." Luna's silvery eyes stared at me, refusing me the ability to lie. She'd know if I did and the consequences would not be pleasant.

I laugh a bit. "I never could lie to you, now could I, Luna? Yes, I'll be breaking this promise too. But this time I'll be far beyond contact."

She nods, like this is old news to her. Perhaps it is. I would not be surprised if she were a Seer.

"I'd rather say goodbye to you now, Luna. Something tells me that tomorrow will not be a good day for it. But don't tell anyone else until after I'm gone," I choke on my words briefly, "it'd be hard, too hard, before and we'll all need our wits about us during the battle."

Luna again nods, whispering, "So it's to be today, then? It's past midnight, Philomel." I nod briefly. "And it's not goodbye for good, I'm sure I'll meet you again, pretty lady." She smiles, and I am suddenly reminded of the first time we met. She was such an odd little child, and I was so very cold.

She leaves, but not before kissing my cheek, and Anila's forehead. I turn back to my sword, watching as the delicate magics sheen across its surface. Now it's only a matter of waiting and hoping that Voldemort wasn't early.

A bright flare outside of my window catches my attention.

Damn it, he was early.

\/\'/\/'\/\'/\/

The battle was going badly, I could see that. When I came down from the room I was gifted with—where I had stayed for most of the battle—much of the student body and the faculty were either dead or dying.

My sword at my side, I waded through the death; the stench a physical reminder of how many people had to be sacrificed for Voldemort to die. Well there was going to be one more.

Death Eaters fought me as I passed, but never left me unscathed. By the time I reached the Great Hall where Voldemort fought my dearest friends and teachers, many nicks and scratches riddled my body, and my black robes were no longer the pristine silk they had been when I'd left the safety of my room.

With my sword—my wand, my shield—gripped tightly in my hand; I disappeared before Voldemort could lay eyes on me. Disillusionment had worked wonders for me in the past, and would do so again. In any case, I would not go out without some kind of production.

Stepping through the rubble that was once grand doors, I made my silent way over to where my friends were fighting—losing to—Voldemort. They had changed little since I left England. Still as brash and brave as ever were Luna, Michele, Hermione, and Draco. Anila was still recovering her strength in our rooms. She had paid the price for her loyalty already and I could not bear to see her try to do any more.

It struck me that I would never see them again.

Shouts rang out, yet I ignored them as I positioned myself on a table that was broken in half; placing me above this grand battle. I flicker into existence once more, my sword leveled at my most hated enemy.

I suppose this is good enough.

"Dark Lord Voldemort," I laugh, it is rather funny, I'm the one who's been called an evil surpassing even Voldemort, yet I'm going to save the world. "My name is Philomel Faye Potter. I believe you've tried to kill me before? This time it will be you who dies."

The surprise of my appearance is only capable of stunning for a second. I am well aware that my opponent is very well versed in dueling, too much so to be surprised by such a pedestrian trick. It is enough time, however, to launch myself into the air and begin my spell.

"_EGO dico __veneficus illorum,_" Voldemort's wand comes up to protect himself, and it grows closer to my eye as I fall. "_mortuus per hostilis manuum, suffragium mihi in suum nex!_"

Magic flickers around me like the aurora borealis—which I have never seen, despite my travels—and green light comes to life at the tip of Voldemort's wand.

It is exhilarating, the magic, I feel like I never have before—but tears spring in my eyes as the memories of happier times float through my mind. Especially those with Anila. I lied to her, but she'll get over it—even when the sword slices into Voldemort, even when his wand and it's half-formed killing curse obliterates my eye, I am content.

This is how it's supposed to be.

Screams—they're not mine, I only have a smile, and I feel no pain — fade behind me. I whisper to Voldemort, no, Tom, "Goodbye, my enemy. It's time to die." Such a cliché, but I needed to say something. Power flooded through my sword-wand and the last flickers of life left Voldemort's red eyes.

We collapse to the ground together, I falling to the side slightly. I don't bother getting up; the power fades even as I think of it; taking with it my life. It is payment, and I don't mind it. Dying this time was hurting less then when I died at seven years of age. It was hurting, in point of fact, not at all.

Hermione is the first to reach me, I can see her hair drape over me. I smile at her and she starts to cry. I muse that smiling while I die might not be the best thing to do; but I can't stop. More power slips away.

"Philomel, whatever you did, it was brilliant. Now come, ge-get up. We're going to cel-celebrate," sobs Hermione; somewhere deep inside of her she obviously knew what was happening to me.

"Can't, 'Mione, you know that," I whisper, there's no energy for me to do more then just whisper and smile. I can't stop the smile, though it's sad now, more than anything.

Michele limps over, his leg giving out on my other side. I can't really see him, Voldemort's wand obstructs the view, but he remedies that by pulling it out. He's still a blur, but I know it's him.

"Philly…for a Ravenclaw, you are awfully stupid. You are going to die now, you know that, right?" He was always the smartest of our little group. I smile at him too.

"I know, always have, you Italian prick." He smiles at that.

Draco is the last to come, when I'm at my absolutely last dregs. Luna stays back, watching me with sad eyes. We've said our goodbyes; I never could keep a secret from her.

"Ms. Faye? I know it's s-s-stupid of me to call you that n-n-now, but old habits die hard, you know? You did it. We're all free. He's gone for good." Draco's not crying as openly as Hermione, but I feel his tears on the hand he's grasped. He knows what's happening too.

More of the energy slips away and I feel my remaining eyelid grow heavy. But there's energy enough for a smile for him too.

"Draco…" they all strain to hear me. "My name is Philomel…"

My eye closes, and my last breath slips out my last words, "I love you, Anila…"

And just like that, Philomel Faye Potter is gone from that world. Screams of grief echo from her friends and in a remote room a young woman starts to cry in her troubled sleep.

:::

_**I've spent so long on this, and I've been through a lot to finish this. I'd like to thank all of you who have helped me struggle through my various bouts of writer's block and depression. This hasn't always been my favourite story to write, but it's dear to my heart nonetheless.**_

_**Addressing Philomel's last words, you may take them however you want. There was no official pairing in this: for any of them. Had I ever done an epilogue they would have been Hermione/Draco, and Michele/Padma. Anila never got over Philomel—yes that means what you think it does—and Luna wanted to wait to find love. However, since there is no epilogue, please pair up whoever you like in your minds.**_

_**I had fun writing this, but now it's over I guess, as soon as I post this. Thank you to everyone who read this, and reviewed, faved, or even put it on alert. It means a lot.**_

_**This is Memories, signing out.**_


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